


Siria Potter-Black and Where the Road Divides

by chamberinmyheart



Series: Siria Potter [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamberinmyheart/pseuds/chamberinmyheart
Summary: Back from the dead & plotting Voldemort’s downfall, Siria Potter-Black heads to the Korean magic school for answers in children’s stories. Can she and the Headmaster come to an agreement? Will the new Minister of Magic accept Siria’s terms? How will she handle what awaits her back at Hogwarts? (book 6) [Updates as I can]





	1. Asadal

**Asadal**  


On the beach of Daebudo Island, Siria Potter-Black stood with one hand in the pocket of her jacket and the other on her phone. Her untidy black hair was stuffed into her baseball cap, which had the same embroidered logo of a wolf howling at the moon. She squinted at her phone, which told her she was right on top of where Baek Eun Jung told them to be.

Siria clicked her tongue and she pocketed her phone in her jacket. She scanned down her outfit: charcoal grey button up, crimson vest, black slacks, Grey Chelsea boots with black trim, and crimson laces. Once she tucked her cap and jacket into her bag, she’d impress. “I hope,” Siria took a breath and eyed the beach. Where exactly Hwi-bin’s Fortress was, she couldn’t say.

“Is there really a school out here?” Ron Weasley, a gangly, freckled red haired boy asked as he squinted over the waters. He wore a white button up, with the top two buttons popped and his cerulean tie loosey hanging out of his light cloud grey vest. Maddy Swelyn, a plump, olive skinned young woman rolled her eyes. She wore a plum blazer over her long black dress. Fastened around her left upper arm was a piece of smokey blue cloth. Maddy looked to Siria and the other girl.

“Did you bring the rings EJ sent you?” Maddy asked. Siria reached into her breast pocket. She pulled out three rings, which she handed to the other girl, Hermione Granger, and Ron, as Maddy already wore hers. Hermione, in a smart black and marigold dress with a lace collar, slipped her ring on and stumbled backward, into Siria.

Siria slid the silver band on, stacked with a ring accented with small crystals of green, silver, red, and gold. She paused as color painted over the world before her. It looked like the scene was cast in a rainbow filter. Patches of shifting spots of color danced over the waters and salt and peppered shore.

Ron pointed up, but there wasn’t a need. The source of all the color was a massive orb-like prism in the sky. A long, thin, circular platform floated at the water’s edge. It sat beneath the prism. Color reflected off and through the orb, which colored the world in fragments of rainbow.

Maddy led them onto the platform. “Don’t the Muggles notice?” Ron asked as he eyed around them. Hermione glanced around, but no one seemed to see the four people disappear at the water’s edge.  
“When have they ever noticed anything?” Maddy asked as the platform rose. Siria reached out and touched a comfortingly cool, invisible wall that kept them in. 

All the work Siria did to convince herself she was a “perfectly normal” fifteen year old on her way to Deokjeokdo washed away in the sea of color. Mere weeks ago, she came back to life after being struck with a Killing Curse, for the second time. She ran her hand over her lightning scar, which had not prickled or even tingled since Lord Voldemort’s failure at the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione ran her fingers and a comb through Siria’s hair. She fought it into a braid while they soared ever higher into the sky. Siria tucked her hat into her bag. Hermione finished with enough time to adjust her own rose gold barretts, which matched with the pattern on the marigold skirt of her dress. She fixed the lacey collar and nodded to Siria, as their platform entered a hole in the floor.

Siria’s jaw fell while the room came into focus. The platform turned into a the dark shadow of the new moon, which matched the one they would have seen outside. Stars covered the space, cast in the pale pink and soft blue light of civil dawn. They were more clear than they had been in the Chamber of Secrets.

“Merlin,” Ron whispered in a shared awe. Siria followed Maddy off the platform, but continued forward, and into a wall. She startled and placed her hand on it, as though it wasn’t there.  
“Maddy,” Siria said, “why can’t we see the walls?” She rubbed her hand along the wall, searching for a doorknob.  
“So nosey newbies don’t get lost,” Maddy said. “Could you imagine what would happen if the first years showed up and decided to explore? You lot were causing havoc at eleven, I don’t want to know what you’d do at ten.”  
“Ten?” Ron repeated.  
“Did you read the Fact sheet Baek sent us?” Hermione asked. She shook her head at Ron and took Siria’s arm. Hermione rose her foot, and reached for her heel. Siria had Hermione steady on the wall, and knelt down to adjust Hermione’s fasteners.

“I told you to wear the slip ons,” Siria said, as she rose back up. Hermione blushed and glanced to Ron. Siria pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “They are very nice, and the tall heel certainly compliments your legs,” Siria said. “Your height is charming and a shorter heel that you can walk in would have been more sensible, especially given how important today is.”  
“Are you seriously going to shame me for wanting to be… more adult,” Hermione said with a speaking look to Siria. She offered Hermione her arm.  
“I’m just saying, maybe ask him for his arm, so we can pretend we’re a heteronormative group.” Hermione stifled a laugh.  
“The Fortress is actually quite progressive,” Hermione said. “Baek and her wife are the only two queer teachers, but, apparently, the Headmaster is super pro-LGBTQA.”  
“That wasn’t on the fact sheet,” Siria said, as she escorted Hermione toward Ron.  
“No, but it was in the notebook,” Hermione said like that solved it.  
“Excuse me for being too busy trying to learn enough Korean to learn at our voluntary summer school.”

“EJ’s on her way,” Maddy said, as she slipped her phone back into her purse. Ron’s eyes followed Maddy’s phone. She eyed him back. “What?”  
“I thought phones and stuff didn’t work at Hogwarts,” Ron said. Maddy widened her eyes and looked around.  
“I didn’t know we were still at Hogwarts,” Maddy rolled her eyes. “Technology is a part of most Muggle’s everyday life. Only archaic places, like Hogwarts, haven’t adapted for it. You won’t catch a single student here without at least a smartphone.”

Muted, sepia light cracked through a wall. It outlined a door, which slid, to the left, open. A woman in her late twenties smiled at them. She wore a white blazer with a white blouse and navy slacks. Her heels were dark navy slip ons with white polka dots. She had dark brown hair and tan skin. Her skillful hands applied the natural look with a light blush, and made her eyes appear sharper than they really were. A single gold watch and gold wedding band accented her look.

“Welcome. I’m Eun Jung Baek,” she introduced herself with a smile. Baek looked to Maddy, then Siria, Hermione, and finally Ron. “But, I suppose you know that. It’s nice to see you all in person.” She turned and eyed them over her shoulder, “if you’d follow me, our Head is waiting for you,” and she led the way. Baek and Maddy broke into Korean too quick for Siria to keep up.  
“So much for all that studying,” Hermione teased and stuck out her tongue.  
“Don’t the Body Snatchers know they’re supposed to replace you with someone like you?” Siria hissed as they followed Baek and Maddy through what appeared to be open space.

People walked on… Siria looked up and watched people walk on the ceiling, completely unphased by it. Someone rolled along in a wheelchair. Birds flew by, upside down. Dogs and small, reddish things dashed here or there. Siria caught the occasional person, bird, or little red thing stare back at her. They disappeared through odd bits of space with the same muted glow of when the wall cracked open. It wasn’t just the spots where people disappeared that had odd lighting, the entire place had the same, civil dawn gradation of light. Stars still spotted everything, in their constellations, some with more stars in them than Siria knew the names of. Her hand reached for one of the silver chains around her neck, but stopped and patted her collar.

They reached a slope in the wall, which eased into the ceiling. Siria inhaled slowly. After years of magic, she would have thought it would stop leaving her wondering how things worked, but it only made her more curious. Her hair shifted like it always did when she walked, like gravity was the same.

Baek knocked on a spot of wall without the sepia glow. “Come in,” a cool voice replied. The wall slid open like a pocket door, and Baek led the way in. While the room had the same pale pink and light blue gradations of light that the rest of the school did, it was somehow clearer. Siria could make out that the floors were wood and that halfway through the room there was a single step of low shoe cubbies, where the floor transitioned to a cushioned material.

A large, round table took up much of the raised area. At least twenty people sat, but there was still room. Baek pointed the cubbies with what looked like slippers. She slid her heels off, traded them for the slippers, and stepped onto the cushioned floor. Siria eyed Hermione’s strappy heels then her own Chelsea Boots.

“[Pardon us],” Siria said, and unlaced her boots while Hermione, Maddy, and Ron also took off their shoes for the slippers. Maddy finished first, and sat beside Baek at the table. Siria pressed her hands to her eyes, as she put her boots into the cubby. She pulled on a smile while she sat down.

Before Hermione, Ron, and Siria, sat a cup of what looked like water, but smelt like burning wood and bubbled the way thick chowders sometimes do. Maddy nodded to them with a look that read “drink it.” Siria nodded back and downed it. The potion tasted rusty and kind of like mud, if she were completely honest. She pulled her smile back on, as she placed her cup back down. Hermione and Ron did the same.

“Speak,” the cool voice that told them to enter said. It belonged to the person at the seat furthest from the door. Their hair glowed with health, and their skin did the same. They wore a deep magenta Jeogori with a nearly midnight purple Chima. The accessories of their Hanbok were crimson or else scarlet. If a round table had a head, that was where they sat.

“Thank you for having us,” Siria said. “So,” she glanced to Baek, who kept her eyes on the person at the far end, so Siria did the same. “I am Siria Potter-Black and I come with Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Madison Swelyn. We’re here to persuade you to help us…” Siria took a breath. She felt like her speech sounded better when she rehearsed it, but also felt like her Korean was better than usual.

“As you may know, ‘A Tale of Two Brothers’ may be based on a real life story, so I am here with the hope that the story involving a ‘change of power’ is as well,” Siria said. “Lord Voldemort has returned to power and is in the public eye, to an extent,” they didn’t flinch in the way she was used to people doing, like Ron still did.

“I’m sorry,” Siria said. “I’m still only fifteen, not very good at Korean, and in way over my head. We came here hoping to meet with the Headmaster, so we could ask permission to study under Baek for a few weeks, as part of one of the summer programs offered at Hwi-bin’s Fortress. I wasn’t prepared to ask a room full of people, in a language I don’t really know, to help when they have no reason other than this: Voldemort won’t stop with the U.K. It might take him years to decide the world is his grand plan, but, if he isn’t stopped, he’ll expose the Magical Community in the worst light possible.”

The head of the table smirked at Siria as the silence sunk in. Whatever they decided, their mind wouldn’t be changed. They sat in the same, still position as when Siria first noticed them, whereas Siria had to shift her weight on her legs. Baek kept her eyes on the person at the head, so Siria did her best to do the same. It was easier to focus on one face than all of them.

“You’re less charismatic than I expected,” they told Siria. “People kept saying that Voldemort was charismatic and charming, like they did with Grindelwald, but I am underwhelmed.” Siria forced a polite smile. “Baek may have oversold you,” they said. Siria clenched her fists in her lap. “I was told you’re clever, imaginative, and resourceful.” She struggled to keep her head up and her eyes on the person at the head. “Let us hope your schoolwork will reflect these things better than you have.”

“We’re in,” Hermione breathed. She squeezed Siria’s hand, which remained clenched.  
“We are in, aren’t we?” Siria asked. The figure at the head of the table sighed.  
“You would not have been allowed entry to the school if we were not going to accept you,” they said. “I would have not invited the Heads of our sister schools or our Ministers, to send you away. There are just a few things you need to be clear on, all of you.

“You have been allowed into our school under very special circumstances and on several conditions,” they explained. “Few at this table were alive when the Magical community lived with the non-magical people and things were easier that way. Siria Potter-Black, your ideals on reintroducing our community, your initiative in independent studies, and the unique circumstances that have allowed you to continue to live have been taken into consideration.

“Hermione Granger, while your academic history makes you promising candidate for our summer program, anyone could have decent test results. Your leaps in information distribution and magical creature equality are why we accepted you.

“Ronald Weasley, you academic record is… impressively average. Somehow, you manage ‘Acceptable’, but your school doesn’t test for everything. It would take a lot of courage or else stupidity to sacrifice yourself at eleven to delay the return of a Dark Wizard you have only heard stories of. Compassion and strategy are, for some reason or another, not taught at Hogwarts, but you managed to get some of both, or so I am told. Please be more compassionate and tactical than Voldemort is rumored to be charismatic or charming.

“Madison, as I understand it, you did not come for the summer courses, this year, but as a guide to the school” they said. Maddy nodded. “Very well… though it is a shame.

“You shall be sorted before we continue, but I must tell you, our school is not ‘Hwi-bin’s Fortress’, or whatever you Europeans are calling it these days. It is, as it has always been, ‘Asadal’. I am not so full of myself as to name my school after me.”

 

“Ron hardly knows any Korean,” Siria hissed to Hermione, “how is he supposed to take an actual test?”  
“Siria,” Hermione snapped back, “you’ve been speaking Korean this entire time— what do you think the drink was?” Siria smacked her palm to her forehead.  
“How am I so oblivious, but also sometimes observant?” Siria asked. “I’m a walking contradiction.”  
“To be fair,” Ron said, “I had no idea anyone was speaking Korean, and thought they were just speaking English, until Siria said her Korean was bad.” They eyed the corridor of pitch black doorways before them. Ron put a hand on Siria’s shoulder and the other on Hermione’s. “If their first years can get through this, so can we,” he said. “Who knows, it could be like the Sorting Hat.”  
“Or we could have to fight a troll,” Siria joked.

Each of them lined up before a door and looked to Hwi-bin and the others. “When you’re ready,” Hwi-bin told them. Siria took a breath and pulled on a smile.  
“See you soon,” she told them.  
“We’ve got this,” Hermione said with a nod.  
“You certainly do,” Ron smiled and stepped through his door first. Hermione and Siria walked through theirs in pace with the other. The darkness swallowed everything.

Siria continued forward. She hoped her eyes would adjust or that she would walk into a wall she could follow. A wall didn’t come and her eyes didn’t adjust. There was no light and no sound. Even her slippers, which should have tapped against the floor as she walked, were silent. It was like being dead again. There was no smell, other than her. She ran her hand over her hair and missed her hat, which was tucked in her bag and back with Baek. That would smell, not good, but a smell of needing to be washed would be something in this void of forward. Twice, Siria thought she saw small pieces of light, but they were never there when she looked at them.

Eventually or quickly, Siria couldn’t tell, she stepped back into the corridor, opposite her door. Baek approached them with a tablet. She typed in: Siria Potter-Black, 15. A brown and green box that read “Earth” at the top of the page pulled up five boxes, one of which Baek selected. The tablet generated a grass green arm band, which Baek took and fastened around Siria’s left bicep.

“Earth, 6-Saturn?” Siria read aloud, as Baek did the same with Hermione and Ron, though their bands were silver, copper, and gold. Baek smiled at them, and led the way back to Hwi-bin, who was now only accompanied by Maddy and three other woman. Siria looked at Maddy’s armband, which now had letters or, more likely, had always had writing and Siria could just see it now. It said “Water” over “9-North”.  
“You will want to keep your bands on as you go about the school,” Hwi-bin told them. “Baek, I leave the rest in your care.”  
“Of course, Headmistress,” Baek said and bowed her head at Hwi-bin. As Hwi-bin walked away, Siria could have sworn she saw a tail beneath the Hanbok, but figured she imagined it.

Maddy exchanged a short goodbye with Hermione, Ron, and Siria. Then she left with two of the other women, who wore billowing robes with rainbow trim. Baek led the trio through the school, pointing out the library, dining hall, the classrooms, and the kitchen.

“You’ll join your sorted class for their meal preparation times,” Baek said and pointed to her band, which was stripped and read “Staff” with “Directional” under it. “Even in summer school, students are responsible for preparing meals twice a week. There are five meals a day, and their duties broken down by element. You’ll join some other students to prepare lunch.”

“Who prepares the rest of the meals?” Hermione asked as they walked through the mostly empty kitchen. “House elves?”  
“Our kitchen staff is mostly Dokkaebi,” Baek said. “Yes, and they are paid for their work, as they have been since our school’s founding.” Hermione smiled and eyed Siria, as though Siria had proposed not paying the Dokkaebi. Baek continued to lead them through the school, and to the dorms.

“The other students are finishing term this week, so you’ll be sharing dorms, as they do,” Baek explained. “Yours is here,” Baek told Ron. She knocked on the door, then opened it. It was a communal room with twenty some odd copper bunk beds with desks beneath them and built in drawers. The room’s floor had a brown, muddy look with spots of red, orange, and yellow leaves. There was a small, round table in the middle of the room. Ron placed his things down at a bed that had his name and followed the others.

Baek led them to the next dorm, which was full of odd things. There was the same civil dawn light, but it felt different, more like a sunset. A soft mist seemed to the fill the room. Childish drawings spotted the walls. Unlike in Ron’s room, the beds were a pale metal. The table in the middle was a dark, deep metal. Hermione pulled her bag out of Siria’s, and placed it on her desk.

“Which one is mine?” Siria asked as she scanned over the names carved into the beds again.  
“You aren’t in this class,” Baek said. “You were each sorted into different classes.” She tilted her head, which caused her hair to drift off her shoulders, as she smiled apologetically.  
“But we’re all Gryffindors,” Ron said. “How could we be in different Houses here?”  
“We don’t have Houses,” Baek said. “We have classes and our students are not sorted based on what they are taught to value most, but by how they learn best. Gryffindors can grow into their mantel of bravery, but someone who learns with a hands on approach will struggle in a class that focuses on reading.”

Siria reached out and grabbed onto Hermione’s arm band. She and Ron had bands of silver, copper, and gold. Under “Metal” Hermione’s band read “7-West” and Ron’s said “7-Autumn”. As she had always been with Hermione and Ron, Siria had not even considered the chance they would be sorted apart. She remembered that Asadal’s school year ran from March to February, so Ron and Hermione were a year above her. All she could manage was an “Oh,” and she remained in a daze through seeing her room and taking up at her desk.

The room for 6-Saturn was full of starlight. It reminded Siria of the room with planets and stars from the Ministry, which made her a little uncomfortable. Saturn was painted on the far wall, and its rings spread out onto the floor of the bedroom. The table in the middle looked like Titan with its yellow hue and shading. Her bed, like the others in the room, was black with fragments of constellations.

Baek provided each of them with a handbook, which Siria pulled out with the notebook Hermione mentioned, and she flipped through them at her desk. Asadal offered two two-week summer class sessions, which started the second week of July and the first week of August. They had “General Studies”, which rotated the subjects of maths, science, Korean, physical education, Muggle history, and home economics.

Children started at ten, took their O.W.L. equivalent at the end of their sixth year, and their N.E.W.T. equivalent at the end of their eighth year. Students could then enter their work field or remain at school for additional studies, which included Alchemy, Genealogy, Spellcraft, and Law. Siria stared at the subject list for awhile, before the other students returned from their classes.

Dinner was served in the dining hall, which was free seating at narrow rectangular tables for twenty that focused around a circular staff table. The rectangular tables fanned out in a stretcher bond pattern. Food varied by table, so there was some passing around of dishes.

Hermione and Ron already hit it off with their dorm mates, some of whom joined them. An odd feeling of unease twisted in Siria’s stomach as she returned to her dorm, which was co-ed and included a professor. Every class did everything together, and hardly had more than kitchen duty with others. It made her wonder. Who would she have been at this school? Was there another Siria or a Harry that went to Asadal?


	2. Missing Pieces

**Missing Pieces**   


Their first days at Asadal were spent in the library. Unlike Hogwarts where there was a restricted section, all of the books were accessible. They were in different colored bookshelves, depending on who they were recommended for: oak if they were entry level; reds, oranges, and yellows, for third or fourth years; browns and greens for fifth and sixth years; and so on.

“Could you imagine if our library was like this?” Hermione asked, as she handed Siria another book to carry back. “We wouldn’t have needed Lockhart’s signature at all, could have just walked right up and checked out the book for Polyjuice.”  
“We also would have been in different years,” Siria said. Hermione rolled her eyes.  
“I said if our library was like this, not if we went here or if our school was like theirs,” Hermione said, while she read over the book titles. “Hogwarts will always be my favorite school, no matter how many I manage to squeeze my way into. It’s where I met my best friends.”  
“You seem pretty friendly with Kim, Yi, and Jeong,” Siria grumbled. Hermione took a breath and held in her sigh.  
“Have you tried talking to your dorm mates?” Hermione asked. “Some of them are staying behind for summer. I hear Si Ha-joon is staying for Potions.”  
“Yeah, we don’t really talk,” Siria said while Hermione put another book on Siria’s stack.  
“I hear you don’t really talk,” Hermione said as she looked Siria in the eye. “Stop being bitter that we were Sorted apart and start capitalizing on it. Why are we different? How can that make us better?” Hermione pressed down on the stack of books, so Siria leaned closer. “The Siria I know would have already learned something world changing.”

Most of Siria’s dorm mates stayed for the summer term, and new faces joined them. Tuesday day evening, some of them were at the Titan table, in the middle, with three cauldrons. Si Ha-joon stood, while the other four, including a summer exchange student, sat, and gave them tips on preparing their ingredients. Siria’s eyes flickered from the scroll she read to their table. Her head inched closer to the scroll, as she tried to focus on it more than them.

Professor Baek Chun-ja approached Siria’s bunk. She had long, straight black hair, downturned eyes, and a flat nose. Her skin was paler than Baek Eun Jung’s and she was thicker. Their gold wedding bands matched, but her arm band read “Celestial” instead of “Directional”.

“You can join them, if you would like,” Baek Chun-ja told Siria in a low enough voice the others wouldn’t hear. Siria eyed around her, to the table. Her lips parted, but she closed them and shook her head.  
“I’m here to study...” Siria trailed off into a grumble, with her eyes on the scroll, “not Potions.”  
“Ah, yes. The noble subject of Not Potions,” Si Ha-joon said from over his shoulder. “How worthy.” Baek Chun-ja gave him a look that he did not turn away from.

The voice inside Siria’s head that sounded like Hermione told her not to be confrontational. Ron’s voice told her to be herself. Siria leaned onto the back legs of her chair, so she had a clear view of Si Ha-joon. “I just didn’t want to school you in front of your friends,” Siria said with a haughty smirk.  
“Put your cauldron where your mouth is,” he told her. Siria scoffed, but rolled up her scroll, picked up her cauldron, slung her bag over her shoulder, and put her things down at the communal table, an intentional chair away from anyone else.

Si Ha-joon pulled out his cauldron, and placed it beside Siria’s. She glared at him from the side, as he placed a book between them. Their challenge: brew a better Draught of Vigor, though Siria wondered if that was a fair translation.

Professor Baek Chun-ja started a timer. Siria wrote out the steps, put the ingredients to the side, then started. She was only familiar with some of the ingredients, so those were the ones she focused on. Cassius taught her to crush sopophorous beans with her dagger, she learned to shred valerian roots, but eyed the mugwort. It was something she’d only read about in passing. The directions said to stew the leaves while turning slowly counter-clockwise, for two minutes then remove the leaves.

Siria stuck the mugwort stalk to her stirring rod, and dipped it in. Every tenth turn, Siria gave it one clockwise turn. She removed her mugwort stalk as Si Ha-joon poured some of his Draught into a cup. Siria sifted the volcanic ash into her Draught, stirred, then served it.

Wisps of teal spirals rose from their cups. Professor Baek Chun-ja eyed the two servings, then Siria and Si Ha-joon. She smiled at them, as she placed her hands on the cups, switch their spots, and pushed them toward the two. Siria watched the spirals from the cup before her and her own, which looked close enough to each other.  
“I’m not taking her Draught of Vigor,” he said. “We should try our own and show how well they work.”  
“Except I can already run circles around you,” Siria noted. She glared back at him.

In a large dome that felt more like a concert hall than a gym, except for the obstacle course around it, Si Ha-joon and Siria stood behind a white line. She wiped the sweat from her face with her t-shirt. They ran the course, for their third time, with the Draught of Vigor in their system. Siria gained her breath, despite being able to dash faster and climb with more ease.

One step ahead, Si Ha-joon crossed the white line. “No!” Siria shouted, as she slowed to a walk for their cool down. “I beat you the first two times,” she added. A three for three victory had naturally been her goal. She tugged at her shirt to cool down. Dorri Ghodsi, one of the girls that came to watch, handed Si Ha-joon a towel, and extended one to Siria. “Thanks,” Siria grumbled while she took the towel.

“I can’t bring myself to dislike someone that competitive,” Ghodsi told Siria. Ghodsi looked to Si Ha-joon. He turned away.  
“I suppose your Draught was not ineffective,” Si Ha-joon told Siria, while he put his towel in the bin.  
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was a compliment in there,” Siria said. She crumpled her towel into a ball, then tossed it in.  
“It’s good that you know better then,” he said, but Siria dropped her distance with them.

Time flew by, as it does when there’s much to do and little time to do it. Their first week passed with as much time collaborating with their dorm mates or in the library as they could manage around student duties. Siria and Hermione each took up a table at the library everyday. Ron bounced between the two, as did the occasional member of their dorms.

Siria pressed her hands to her eyes and dropped her head to the table. She let out a muffled groan. “Noble study of Not Potions going well, then?” Ha-joon asked Siria. He looked over one of the scrolls at her table. “I trust that you know Potions is a necessity for Alchemy.”  
“I’m not doing Alchemy,” Siria said and placed her chin on the table as she slouched more. “I’m researching Blood Curses, Horcruxes, and,” she placed air quoted around the last word of “Myths.” Siria put her forehead back down on the table.

Ha-joon rolled up the scroll he held and poked Siria with it. She grumbled. He grinned and poked her again. “Ha-joon, I’m going to take that scroll and beat you with it,” Siria said.  
“Why don’t you give it another look first,” he said. Ha-joon pulled out the chair beside Siria. She groaned, but sat up and made room for him to open it. “This is an alchemical circle.”  
“That is a seal.”  
“No,” he said and pointed closer, at a small part where the lines parted. “This is the seal— this,” he pointed to the barely smaller one, “is an alchemical circle.” Siria rose up in her chair and scooted it against his while Ha-joon handed her the scroll. Her glasses dropped to the tip of her nose, as she got as squinted at the parchment as close as she could manage.  
“Merlin… Ha-joon, you’re a genius,” Siria said. “Hermione, Ron!” She got up. “I’ve got to check this out and get it to Hermione.” Siria took a handful of books and rushed them to the book trolley. Ha-joon brought her the others. They brought the scroll to Hermione’s dorm, where she and dorm mates received it with eager eyes and hands.

“Do you still have the children’s book Baek Eun Jung sent you last year?” Hermione asked. “I didn’t see a copy in the library.” She reached for Siria’s bag.  
“It’s on my bunk,” Siria said. “I was reading it last night.” One of the girls at the communal table pulled out a sheet of transparent paper, and placed it over the scroll.  
“For a ‘change of power’ or ‘a Tale of Two Brothers’?” Hermione asked with a critical eye. Siria rose her head up some. The girl with the scroll traced over the circle, as her dark brown dreads steadily slipped closer to the edge of her shoulder.  
“I am here to study both, after all,” Siria noted. Hermione pinched her lips together.  
“Please put you-know-what above that, in your priorities,” Hermione said in English.  
“It is,” Siria replied through gritted teeth. “What do you need the book for?” Siria asked in Korean, which they continued with.  
“I wanted to share the story,” Hermione said as the girl with the dreads finished her tracing and passed the scroll to a boy in silver gloves.  
“Like you don’t remember it,” Siria said.  
“Some people prefer to read it, rather than be read it. We are in Directional, after all.”  
“Should I go ahead?” Ha-joon asked from near the doorway. Hermione smiled at him and hugged Siria.  
“No,” Hermione said. “She’s just heading out,” as she turned Siria and pushed her toward the door.

“You know,” Siria said while she traded her radish kimchi for cucumber at dinner. “I’m going to miss you when I go back to Hogwarts,” she told Ha-joon.  
“That is unexpected,” Ha-joon said at his bowl. Siria laughed.  
“It’s be a lot of fun, working with competitive people. Ghodsi, of course, I’ll miss the most because she’s definitely the best Duelist,” Siria glanced over to Dorri Ghodsi and waved. “Think they’ll let me come back next year, if I survive?”  
“Would you come back if you beat Lord Voldemort?” Ha-joon asked while he piled chicken on his cleared plate.  
“Why wouldn’t I?” Siria asked with a shrug. “The summer courses don’t interfere with Hogwarts and I’ll have N.E.W.T.s the next year.” She sighed at her bowl of rice. It took her more time to adapt to the school than she wanted, but she already missed it.  
“The summer courses are designed for it,” he said. “Everyone has an open invitation to study at Asadal.” Siria paused as she reached for the large tea pot. She looked at him.  
“Your Minister declines on your behalf,” Kyŏng Yu-Na interjected. She glared at Siria from across the table, with a perfectly placed smile.  
“What?” Siria asked.  
“Potter-Black, you’re such a dedicated person,” Kyŏng Yu-Na said. “You must have been too absorbed in your studies to see how many different people arrived from other places.” She gave a half shrug, “well, red beans come from where they are planted."*

“Kyŏng Yu-Na,” Ha-joon said. He and Kyŏng Yu-Na stared at each other so intently, Siria was sure a silent conversation happened while their brows creased, lowered, and raised. She reached across the table, took his cup, and filled it with tea Siria had reached for. Kyŏng Yu-Na kept her smile in place as she placed the full cup in front of him. She took Siria’s cup and did the same, with the same pulled on politeness. 

“What a kind observation,” Siria said. She placed her hand on the cup, but did not drink. “I envy the time you have for such things. As you said, I am so very dedicated to my studies.” Siria raised the cup and took a sip.  
“If only your Minister could find the time to accept those of equal, if not greater, worth and hear their ideas,” Kyŏng Yu-Na said. “If they were as dedicated to protecting the public from their Dark Wizards as you are to your research, no one would know Grindelwald’s name.”  
“Kyŏng Yu-Na, you’re so funny,” Siria said. She wanted to leap over the table, tackle her to the ground, and punch her. “Your humor is so great, history may be the only thing that could add to it. After all, Grindelwald isn’t British.”  
“How true to tradition, Potter-Black” Kyŏng Yu-Na said, with a look that sarcastically read “It’s never your fault.” She took a sip of her cup. Siria hated “the game”.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day and I don’t need to explain to you how I intend to leverage my place within the English Magical Community to change things,” Siria said. “Maybe you ought to take a look at where you’re planted.” She knocked back the rest of her tea, thanked Kyŏng Yu-Na for it, and left. Where was the Asadal equivalent of the Room of Requirement? She wanted to scream and throw things, not that it made her feel better, but it took out a little of the anger. It calmed her blood, just a little bit.

As she walked back to the dorms, Siria sighed and eyed her rings. No one had heard from Alice or Cassius since they were near Lake Victoria. It meant they were either successful in finding Uagadou or that something went wrong. George told Siria she would know if something happened “at least to Cassius” because of the linked rings. She wondered if their mirror broke or if it was like Asadal and people looked at you weird if you wanted to send an owl instead of an email.

Siria turned to stop by Hermione’s dorm so she could drop off the book. She knocked on the wall of the doorway, as the door was open. Hermione sat with a handful of other people, over the scroll Si Ha-joon noted. The boy with the silver gloves and the girl with dreads each sat a chair away from Hermione, for adequate book stacking space. Layers of the transparent paper were scattered around the table, as they had traced parts of it. Hermione smiled at Siria, a line of ink on her cheek, from her pen.

“Did you bring it?” Hermione asked. Siria nodded. “Well, come on in, dork. We’re so close,” she opened and closed her hand to call Siria in. Siria inched toward the table while Hermione spoke. “It looks like it’s actually an alchemical circle with a seal and something else. The problem is that there are missing pieces in the circle and the other thing.”

“Um,” Siria glanced to the girl who traced it earlier, while she compared one of the tracings to the design in her book. Her dreads trailed down, past the seat of the chair. Hermione caught Siria’s eye.  
“Singh,” Hermione said to get the girl’s attention. She looked to Hermione. “You remember Siria Potter-Black?” Hermione asked.  
“Yeah,” Singh chuckled then smiled at Siria, “here to carry more books for Granger?” she asked, as Siria handed Hermione the children’s book.  
“Yeah, but” Siria paused, “could I ask you something?”  
“Before this gets awkward, I’m not queer,” Singh said with such sincerity that Siria blushed. “Not that then? If it’s about Uagadou, I can’t help you. I go to Kukhulizayo, you know ‘leer uit die verlede en hoop vir die toekoms’.”

“Of course Africa has more than one school,” Siria tilted her head up at the ceiling. “I’m so—” but she held in the words she wanted to call herself.  
“Do you know how many people think it’s just the Uagadou School of Magic? At least two people ask me every summer; I was about to be one short, until you asked,” she joked.  
“How can you be so ‘meh’,” and Siria batted at the air “about it? I just assumed an entire continent went to the same school, while attending a school for a single country.”  
“Are you going to make the same mistake with someone else?” Singh asked, her eyes back to the tracing and scroll.  
“Dear Merlin, no,” Siria said. She looked at Singh. “I’m so sorry.”  
“Thank you,” Singh said and changed the topic. “Granger told me about your friends. They probably made it fine, though I’ve only visited once.”

“Does everyone else have these cool exchange programs and we’ve been missing out on years for no reason?” Siria asked.  
“Not everyone,” the boy in gloves said. “There are other schools like Hogwarts. Look at Durmstrang. Some people would rather be left alone. It’s why they voted to go into hiding.”  
“Do you all want to remerge?” Siria said. They agreed. Siria listened to their reasons which varied from being able to help Muggles, to magic-technology combination potential, to getting help from Muggles, to being able to better communicate with other magical people, and the simple convenience of not hiding,

It was well after midnight when they retired. Siria stretched out beside Hermione’s bunk and placed her hand on the ladder. Hermione tucked herself in and shook her head at Siria. “You’ve done fine this whole time,” Hermione said. “Besides, you need to get used to it.”  
“Oh?” Siria stepped on the bottom step of the ladder.  
“I won’t be going back with you and Ron,” Hermione said and Siria slipped. She clutched the ladder to stop her fall. “Not at first. I’ve already spoken with my parents and I’m going home late August, when the summer programs are over.” Siria pulled herself up, and sat her chin at the edge of Hermione’s bed.  
“Are you saying I won’t see you until the term starts?” Siria asked. Hermione opened then closed her mouth. She sighed and looked at Siria through her bangs.  
“It’s like you said, we’ve missed years of this opportunity,” Hermione said. “Besides, there are missing pieces that I can’t find here. Headmistress Hwi-bin has helped me make arrangements to study at two other schools, so…”  
“That’s… that’s really great,” Siria said. “You certainly… that’s great.”  
“I’m sorry,” Hermione said. Siria shook her head.  
“No. Don’t be. It’s amazing. They’re so lucky to have you,” Siria said and stepped down from the ladder. “Congratulations,” she added “you earned it.” Hermione pulled a smile on that only made Siria feel worse. “Maybe we can study somewhere together again next summer.”  
“Maybe.”

Hermione had been by Siria’s side since the troll incident in their first year. She and Ron were constant presences, but she walked to her dorm alone. Siria stared at the stars in the corridor without seeing them. This trip should have brought them closer, but she felt like it was the least amount of time she ever spent with Hermione and Ron. Ron and the others in 7-Autumn hit it off immediately. He smiled more than at Hogwarts and even signed up for an actual summer course, Tactics. Hermione signed up for Ancient Magic, Magic Theory, and An Introduction to World Magic. Siria sighed as she slumped down beside the doorway of her dorm.

“You should have signed up for more,” Siria thought. “Hermione’s always telling you to look at Magic Theory and they have a literal class.” She pulled her knees close and watched the ceiling. Tactics had been the only subject Ron actually wanted to take, but Siria told him “I’ve already got Ancient Magic and Independent Study, plus Hwi-bin says she wants to ‘discuss matters with me’, so I don’t have time.” She should have made time.

Her watch said it was about four in London. Sirius might be working, but...“Ah!” a girl gasped as she stepped out of Siria’s dorm and into the hall. She swore. It was Kyŏng Yu-Na. Siria sighed. Kyŏng Yu-Na pulled her robe tighter over her nightgown. “What are you doing creeping in the hall? Colonizing the corridor?”  
“Yeah; it’s full of things I want,” Siria said as she rose to her feet, which made her tower over Kyŏng Yu-Na, “get lost.”  
“I was just going to… you’re the one haunting the hallway,” she said. She held her robe closed at the top. Siria rolled her eyes and headed down the corridor. Kyŏng Yu-Na followed behind her.  
“Go away,” Siria told her,  
“You go away,” Kyŏng Yu-Na replied. “This was where I was going before you startled me.” Siria clicked her tongue. They broke off in different directions at a five way divide.

She slipped into an empty room and opened her compact mirror. It reflected the cool blue and light pinks of the walls. Siria placed her head down on the desk. He would answer. Sirius always answered… eventually. She put head on her arm as she waited. Where was he?

Puzzle pieces the size of desks rained from the sky. They were colored in the pinks and blues of Asadal. Rainbow fragments danced across the floor. As the rays of light shifted, the untouched ground became deep holes. Some of the pieces fell into the craters and, if one of the rays of light passed over it, the piece vanished.

Siria ran for her life. She dove out of the puzzle pieces’ way, but stayed in the light. A cold laughter echoed from the craters that swallowed pieces, as snakes slithered out. Red devoured the other colors of light. It drown Siria in the gaze of hungry red eyes with slits for pupils.

With a shiver, Siria startled awake. She searched around the empty classroom then glanced at her mirror. Rather than the colors of the room, it showed a man, at his desk. Sirius had propped the mirror up on his desk, while he clacked away on his laptop. A pair of wire framed reading glasses sat at the edge of his nose. He continued to type as he took a sip of coffee.

“Hi dad,” Siria said. Sirius inhaled his coffee. He coughed it back into his cup. Sirius held up one hand to say “I’m fine” as he bent over and covered his mouth with his other hand as he coughed more. “Sorry,” Siria chuckled.  
“It’s fine,” Sirius said. He dapped at his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve. “How are things?”  
“They’re fine,” Siria said, but looked away as she sat up in her chair.  
“That’s good,” Sirius said. She knew he could tell they weren’t. “What time is it there?” he asked. Siria glanced at her watch, she didn’t want to do the math on that, but she’d slept for an hour.  
“Early.”  
“Siria, I don’t want to pry, but you usually don’t call just to say ‘hi’ anymore. It’s fine if you did, and I’m always happy to talk with you,” Sirius said. “Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?”  
“How are things at Moony & Padfoot?” Siria asked. “Has Chloe settled on any new designers?” He humored her with how things were at the office. Sirius went on for almost an hour. Chloe accepted not one, but three new designers, which Sirius called a miracle.

“The American launch went well,” Sirius said. “I was worried about the marketing, but sales have been promising.” He lifted up his coffee, sighed at it, but drank it anyway. “Are you ready to talk about it?” He asked as he put the mug down.  
“Do you think that Hermione and Ron know I treasure them?” Siria asked. Sirius stopped typing. “Do I have to ask them?”  
“They are the only ones who will know.”  
“What if they think I don’t?”  
“Siria, if you think you might not show your friends you treasure them enough, then, even if Hermione and Ron say you do, you’ll have still have to prove it to yourself,” he said. “As your father— godfather,”  
“Father,”  
“Father… I am biased. Of course, my kind, strong hearted daughter treasures her friends. She’s also an amazing duelist, developing fashion designer—” Siria snorted and a smile cracked over Sirius’s lips. “—brilliant Potioner, accomplished pianist.”  
“Dad!” Siria interrupted. “I can play one song.” Sirius shrugged.  
“Half as many as me,” he told her,

“Really, Siria,” Sirius said. He took his glasses off, folded them, and placed them on his desk. “Ron and Hermione at least know how much you trust them. I think how much you let someone into your life reflects how much you value them. The secrets you share, the plans you make, the trials you endure, and the promises you keep are all parts of your friendship and its weight in your lives.”  
“Reading those parenting books again?” Siria asked. She was half teasing, but thankful how much he wanted to be the best parent he could to her.  
“Just reading,” he said. “My brilliant and brave daughter seems really into it, so it must not be that bad.”  
“Don’t act like you just started reading,” she told him. “I have some of your old textbooks, which are almost illegible from all the notes you crammed in— and Remus told me how long your Transfiguration essays were.” Sirius laughed.

“How is Remus?” Siria asked. She pressed her hand to her mouth to cover her yawn. Sirius still saw.  
“Remus is still doing fine. You, however, should get some sleep,” Sirius said. “Even if you have an Independent Study session first period, you shouldn’t sleep through it.”  
“I’ve got some of Fred and George’s One Eye Open Solution,” Siria said. “I’ll have a bit when I get back to my dorm, but is Remus really okay?”  
“Who do you think managed the American launch?”  
“Chloe.”  
“Yes… well, she couldn’t’ve left the office to just me. Remus is well enough he narrowed down the new designers for her and took over her usual duties,” Sirius said. He flipped through a stack of papers.

“Dad,” Siria said. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about it,” Sirius slowed while he continued to still search for the paper he wanted. “I’m going to accept the proposal.”  
“Was his letter that much more persuasive?” Sirius asked with the air of asking “is chocolate ice cream better than strawberry?”  
“The opposite, really,” Siria said. “It had even more fluff and I’m a little worried they’re better at ‘the game’ than I am, but I’m not going to play. I’ll make sure my conditions are clear and give myself an out.” Sirius nodded. Siria watched him. His jaw shifted as he seemed to gnaw on the thought.  
“I’m proud of you for making the decision on your own,” Sirius said. “Let your friends know, when you remind them how much they’re treasured.”  
“Thanks,” Siria said. “I will. I’m just—”  
“Sirius!” Chloe hissed from a distance. “That pink haired woman is,” Chloe stopped as she and her electric blue hair came into focus. “Oh, Siria!” Chloe smiled and waved. “Sorry, I’ll let you two get back to it.” She looked to Sirius. “Remember, we have that dinner meeting…”  
“It’s fine,” Siria told them. “I’ve got to… do stuff. Summer school, and all. I love you, dad.”  
“Siria, I’ve still got time,” Sirius told her, but she saw the furrow in his brow. His eyes went over his computer, where she knew there was a clock on the wall in the office.  
“I should really go read. I’ve got like ten library books to finish, and Astoria wrote me like a twenty page letter, not to mention my other mail,” Siria said as she scooted her chair back.  
“Okay. I love you.”  
“Love you too.”  
  
*red beans come from where they are planted: 콩 심은데 콩나고, 팥 심은데 팥난다. This is like “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” but my grandma used to tell me this to keep me away from people she thought weren’t a good influence. She used it as “if you are with good people, you’ll grow into a good person.”


	3. Dumbledore’s Request

**Dumbledore’s Request**  


“What do you mean you’re going to do it?” Ron asked at breakfast. Siria sighed as Hermione poured them more of the cold cucumber soup. “Are you being blackmailed?”  
“It’s more like she’ll be blackmailing someone, again,” Hermione said. She kept her eyes on her food.  
“I’m not blackmailing anyone, I’m leveraging my position— capitalizing on it, even” Siria said, not that Hermione was one to comment on the moral standing of blackmail. Ron shook his head and piled more meat onto his rice. “Are you both really so against it?”  
“No,” Ron said. “I trust you to know what you’re doing. I’m just worried about you. He’s a lot older than us, so he’s had more time to learn things. What if he tricks you?”  
“He might,” Siria said, “but I just have to hope that I do everything I have to before he can.”

“[What you plotting in English?]” Ha-joon asked as he took the empty seat beside Siria. Dorri Ghodsi sat beside him.  
“You want in?” Siria joked as Hermione and Ron told him “Nothing.” They looked to Siria, who shrugged as she continued in Korean, “I’m pretty sure everyone here knows what we’re plotting with the seal, I really don’t see the harm in letting them know what else we’re doing.”  
“Dumbledore wants us to keep some things close to the chest,” Hermione said in English. Siria ignored her.  
“Everyone knows,” Dorri said.  
“We’re having some disagreements about what to do when we go back,” Siria told Ha-joon and Dorri. “Our headmaster wants us to go about things in a secretive manner. I’m not exactly intending on shouting our plans through a megaphone, but I want more people involved than he does.”  
“Looking at the seal, you’ll need quite a few people,” Ha-joon said. “It’s been awhile since I heard ‘The Mother’s Loss’, but, if it’s true, you’ll need all the help you can get.”  
“I thought so too!” Siria said, and placed her chopsticks down as she faced him. “I think it’ll be stronger with more people.”  
“I mean, alchemy is about a balance of things, so the more you give the more you get,” Dorri said.

“What I don’t get,” Ron said, “is where do we get: a son of the inverted valley, a daughter of the sky, two children of the forest, and a father of steel?” Ron counted them on his fingers.  
“They’re not literally that,” Hermione said. “They’re metaphors. The inverted valley is a volcano, for fire. The sky is really the ocean, for water… no…” Hermione placed her hand over her lips. “That would mean… but I couldn’t be sure…” she shook her head as she reached for the tea pot. “Of course… I mean… that might…” Her hand hung in the air, near the pot. Siria placed her finger on her lips in a “shh” motion.  
“I’m going to the—” Hermione started and, with Ron and Siria said “library.” Hermione nodded and slung her bag over her shoulder.  
“I love you,” Siria said. Hermione pecked her on the forehead, then Ron.  
“Love you too,” Hermione said as she dashed from the dining hall.  
“Why couldn’t she just tell you?” Ha-joon asked, as he watched Hermione’s bushy brown hair bounce out of sight.  
“That’d break the tension,” Dorri joked. Ron sighed and grabbed another vegetable omelet.  
“I think she’s just worried about being wrong,” Siria said. “To be fair, being wrong could actually mean we fail or die… or fail then die.”  
“But ‘no pressure’, right?” Ha-joon asked.

Once Dorri and Ha-joon finished breakfast, Ron said “I should head to Tactics.”. He sighed then looked at Siria and smiled.  
“Ron,” Siria said and put her arm on his shoulder. “I love you, mate.” Scarlet filled Ron’s face.  
“Love you too,” he grumbled as he picked his bag up. “See you in Ancient Magic,” he said as he rose.  
“Have fun in Tactics,” she told him with a wide grin and waved as he left.  
“We ought to head out too,” Dorri said and grabbed her bag. Ha-joon and Siria picked up theirs as well.  
“You’re very affectionate with your friends,” Ha-joon said while they walked to their Independent Study classroom. Siria shrugged. “It’s refreshing, but people might get the wrong idea.” Siria laughed. Dorri shook her head, but grinned.

“Are you worried Cha Jin Soo won’t ask Hermione out because of Siria?” Dorri asked. “He’s already lost the window for it.”  
“Cha Jin Soo?” Siria asked, as she looked from Dorri to Ha-joon, “Who’s that?”  
“He’s in 7-West, with Granger,” Ha-joon said. “I think they’re in Magic Theory and An Introduction to World Magic together.” He took a seat at a communal table, with Dorri and Siria. It was actually her favorite table in the room; somehow, it smelt even more calming than the others. The room smelt like wood with something floral, but this table smelt almost familiar.

“Isn’t it odd he’s still in introductory levels?” Siria asked. “He’s had years to take it.” Dorri snorted, as she took out her books.  
“They rotate what countries are covered, so you can take it three years in a row and get different places,” Dorri said. “It’s the world, Siria. Do you know how many schools there are?”  
“No,” Siria confessed, “and I feel like there are more every day,” she smiled and faced the front as Baek Chun-ja walked in.

After greetings, Baek Chun-ja reminded them their presentations started tomorrow. Siria, who managed to get through five years of Hogwarts without a single presentation, found her stomach more twisted than ever. She pulled up her presentation program on her laptop and glared at each slide while she clicked through.

“Hey, what are you two doing?” Siria asked Ha-joon and Dorri. Dorri arched an eyebrow as she looked over the stack of books between her and Siria. “Presentation style wise.”  
“Are you going to re-do your powerpoint again?” Dorri asked with a sigh. “Just keep your ‘I didn’t come back to life for A’ or ‘I’d rather fight a basilisk than B’ to a minimum. They’re cute the first time you hear it, but it’s like my little cousins telling a joke.”  
“Ouch,” Siria said and placed her hand to her chest, as though struck. Dorri rolled her eyes.  
“You’re a pretty hands on person,” Ha-joon said, “not as much as those in ‘Seasonal’, but we are ‘Celestial’, after all. Play to your strengths.” He read over his paper, mouthing the words while he went. Siria pushed the laptop back, so she had room to slump on the table. She continued to click through the slides.

“Personally, I think it’s amazing,” Hermione said at lunch. “It gives us an opportunity to share our findings with the class, and loads of people have occupations they have to present for.”  
“We don’t have presentations in Tactics,” Ron said as he piled more thinly sliced beef onto his bowl. “Instead, we’re doing a Janggi tournament. I won two rounds today.”  
“You’ve already started?” Siria asked.  
“They’re a lot of people in Tactics,” Ron said. “We’ go’ a ge’ s’ar’e ear’y,” he told them through through a mouth full of beef and rice.  
“It just sucks to spend our last two days presenting instead of working on things,” Siria said.

“‘Mione,” Siria called. “Were you right about your suspicion?” Hermione turned pink and knocked over her kimchi.  
“It’s something I need to look into at the other schools,” Hermione said as she piled the spilled food onto her napkin. “It would actually be that you’re right though, mostly.” Siria sighed and looked to Ron, who shrugged.

After presentations, everyone packed up. Hwi-bin sent Hermione to the next school. Dorri and Ha-joon promised to write. Hwi-bin reminded Siria what they talked about and handed her a small box that she was to keep closed “until the right time”. Ron and Siria boarded a plane, for a flight they slept through most of. Then they were back in London.

“That wasn’t enough time,” Siria told Ron, as she flagged down a cab outside LHR. Ron stretched and massaged his shoulder.  
“I couldn’t sleep anymore,” he yawned. Siria opened the door of the cab. Ron slid in first.  
“Take us here, please,” Siria said and handed the driver a note. Then she switched to Korean as the driver took off. “I mean that it wasn’t enough time at the school,” Siria said. “I feel like I could spend a thousand years there and it wouldn’t be enough.”  
“I mean, you should talk to Hwi-bin” Ron tilted his neck to stretch it, “She’s almost as old as Nicolas Flamel and doesn’t look as old as my mum.”  
“Hwi-bin is older than him— she’s a Kumioh, Ron. She spent a thousand years as a fox…” Siria narrowed her eyes at his opened mouth.  
“That’s why she had all those tails.” he said. Siria sighed and leaned back in the cab.

Siria paid the driver, as Ron stepped out of the cab. They met Sirius and Remus, and walked a ways down before—  
CRACK  
Sirius steadied Siria, while Ron clapped a hand to his mouth to keep his food down. Siria smiled, but it fell. While she had expected Grimmauld Place or Moony & Padfoot, the Burrow was nothing to frown at. The person outside it, however.

Albus Dumbledore stood before the Burrow’s gate. He wore long, flowing robes of cobalt with blonde trim. His half moon spectacles sat at the end of this crooked nose. Dumbledore wore delicate gloves that matched. He smiled at Sirius, Remus, Ron, then Siria.

“Ms. Potter-Black,” Dumbledore said. “Would you do me the kindness of accompanying me on a short errand?” Siria’s nostrils flared as she took a long, deep breath. She pulled on a smile.  
“I’m sure arrangements can be made, Professor,” Siria said. “After all, I would love to discuss some matters with you, should you find yourself with the time.” Sirius put his hand on the back of Siria’s head and ruffled her hair. Pride radiated through her.

Siria extended her arm to Dumbledore. His gentle smile winced and he held out his other arm for her. “My left if you would,” Dumbledore said (B6, 58). She nodded and took his arm.  
“See you soon,” Siria told Sirius, Remus, and Ron.  
“I expect it will be a short trip,” Dumbledore told them. “Perhaps just until midnight.”  
“Love you, kiddo,” Sirius said.  
“Love you too, dad.”

CRACK!

A small village of mostly stone sat some distance before them. “Sir, did you receive my letters?” Sirai asked as Dumbledore walked along the cobbled path through the tall grass. In the dark of night, the village felt cool, but there was something off about Dumbledore that held her attention.  
“Yes,” he said. “It sounds as though you had quite the transformative experience.”  
“I meant more about what I asked,” she said. “I’ve got a meeting with the Minister next week and I want to know if I can discuss that as well.”

“If I may, what made you accept his proposition?” Dumbledore asked while they walked through the town, which slept so deeply in the late hour.  
“Like you said, Asadal was a transformative experience. I realized that I need to rely on others more,” her smile tightened. “In a world full of lies and secrets, no one can do everything alone. If it’s one thing I learned from the Sunday group and D.A. it’s that I should help others.”

“And you believe the Minister’s cause is worthy of your help?” Dumbledore asked. He walked slower than she remembered.  
“No,” Siria said flatly. “But he seems the type of person who will only help those he thinks are useful.” Dumbledore chuckled.  
“That is quite an observation,” he said.  
“Manipulative people are everywhere,” Siria said with a side glance to Dumbledore, which he met. His glittering blue eyes clouded with guilt, but not regret. “What do you want my help with?”  
“Simply for you to be yourself,” Dumbledore said. Siria paused, which caused Dumbledore to do the same. “We are, as we are every year, down a staff member. An old friend and former professor, Horace Slughorn, has refused the invitation to teach several times. He may find himself unable to, if he meets you.” [B6, 60]

Siria nodded and continued walking. “Thank you,” she said. “Is there anything in particular I can do to persuade the good professor?”  
“He fancies himself a collector of people he believes will be great,” Dumbledore said. “Future Ministry members, finders of cures, spellmakers, and the like.” Siria nodded as Dumbledore listed the types.  
“The Girl Who Lived sounds like quite a gem in the collection,” Siria said. She eyed Dumbledore’s left hand. “I don’t suppose you found any precious stones this summer, sir.”  
“A story for another time,” Dumbledore assured her. [B6, 61]

The door of the cottage Dumbledore approached hung off its hinges. Siria’s stomach plummeted and she withdrew her wand. If it was another Polyjuice Potion situation, her knowledge of clothes wouldn’t help with a person she didn’t know. Dumbledore’s wand was out as well. He instructed Siria to stay close and approached the door. [B6, 62-63]

Broken glass and crystal decorated the floor. A few piano keys were stuck in the wall, opposite a splatter of blood. Their wands lit, Dumbledore went to inspect a knocked over chair while Siria walked closer to the blood. It glistened in a way that human blood usually didn’t, a possibly magical way.

“Sir,” Siria said. “I don’t think this is human,” she gestured at the blood. Dumbledore said nothing. She looked over her shoulder in time to see him jab the armchair with the tip of his wand. The chair gasped in pain as it Untransfigured into a portly, balding man. Siria sighed, as he complained that Dumbledore didn’t need to poke him so hard. [B6, 63-64]

Siria turned her head back to the wall and took a breath. He was a coward, to be sure. She would not fault him for being resourceful, though. With a smile pulled back in place, she turned around to face the gentlemen as the pieces of the room repaired themselves.[B6, 65]

From the piano keys in the wall to the shattered chandelier, the room was back in place. Horace Slughorn approached the bloodstain on the wall, which Dumbledore asked about. “Dragon blood,” Slughorn sighed.  
“Dragon blood!” Siria repeated. She bit back the words she wanted to shout. With how expensive Dragon’s blood was and how many uses it had, to just throw it on a dusty wall. Siria glared as Slughorn drew the tainted blood into a bottle. [B6, 65]

“I know what you’re doing,” Slughorn told Dumbledore. He turned away from Siria. “My answer is the same.” Siria scanned around the room. She found an area covered in photos, the shrine to his great collection. Dumbledore asked if they could have a drink, while Siria made her way to the photos. Slughorn agreed to a single drink. [B6, 65-66]

“Though she is a young woman that does not need an introduction,” Dumbledore said as he handed Siria a glass. “Horace Slughorn, Siria Potter-Black.” Siria did a small curtsey with her dress. Slughorn nodded in her direction, but could not seem to bring himself to look at her. She stared at Dumbledore. His face read for her to continue to be herself.

“Mr. Slughorn,” Siria said, “thank you for the drink,” and she tilted her glass just enough for the golden liquid to wave. “Could I ask a few questions about your photo collection?” Slughorn eyed her like she were a dragon. He turned his backside to the fire and shifted so it would be warmed evenly.  
“I suppose,” Slughorn said, but stared pointedly at Dumbledore.  
“It’s just that I think I recognize some of these people,” Siria said. “I just don’t know from where.” It was only a partial lie. She knew some of the faces from the Daily Prophet, but didn’t remember what they were in for, except one.

“This person, here” Siria said and pointed to a boy with high cheekbones and a pinched nose, in a photo with a few others around his age. The other students in the photo moved aside, so he could move forward. Slughorn squinted at the boy. “He looks so familiar, but I simply can’t place him,” Siria lied. A proud smile tugged at the corner of Slughorn’s mouth, which he hid quickly.

“Damocles Belby,” Slughorn said, “very distinguished cheekbones. I’m not surprised you recognized him.” Slughorn placed his glass down on the table beside his student shrine. “Belby, as you may know, is the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion.”  
“Oh,” Siria tsked, “how unfortunate,” she took a sip of her drink.  
“Unfortunate?” Slughorn repeated.  
“Well, of course I’m sure he worked extremely hard to find something for the condition, but it’s really not that impressive. There’s a boy my age that’s already found a more cost efficient and effective alternative,” Siria said. “He’s almost ready to start testing, just needs enough werewolves to agree.” She convinced herself it wasn’t really a lie. Ha-joon was close to completing his alternative, though “close” in Potions counted for little.

“It’s just a matter of time before he gets it,” she said and moved onto another picture. “Is that Gwenog Jones?” Siria asked at a more recent photo, cut from a newspaper article. “Are you a fan?”  
“Gwenog is a former pupil of mine,” Slughorn said. Siria had to hold back her smirk. “She happens to send me tickets whenever I want them.” [B6, 71]  
“Hopefully you missed that Tornado game,” Siria said. “It was…” but her eyes caught a dark haired woman with almond eyes— with her eyes.

She picked the picture off its shelf. It was her mother, in a low cut dress that flared out at some sort of Christmas party. Lily laughed and raised her glass up at Siria. She was with a group of girls Siria didn’t know, who she had never known, standing beside a greasy haired boy with a hook nose. In all the pictures she’d seen of her mother, this had not been one. A laughing, teenage, Lily Evans...beside Snape.

“Did…” Siria paused and took a breath. “Did you know my mother well?” She clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering.  
“Yes,” Slughorn eyed Siria’s face, but she only saw Lily’s wide, heart filled laugh beside Snape, who wore a shy smile. So the tin man had a heart, once. “Lily Evans was one of my favorite students.”  
“Was she good?” Siria asked.  
“A natural. Only Severus Snape could brew a better Draught of—” Slughorn was cut off.  
“Potions?” Siria asked. She turned back, to Dumbledore. “Potions,” she repeated and looked back to Slughorn. “You taught my mother Potions? That’s what you teach?”  
“Yes,” Slughorn said. He tugged at his jacket, to brush off his shock.

Siria placed the picture down, turned the dial on her bag, and opened it. She pulled out a small tub of the chartreuse paste Madam Pomfrey helped her perfect last year. “Would you look at something for me?” Siria asked. “If you taught Snape, you’ve got to be good and Madam Pomfrey’s helped me about as much as she can.” Slughorn took a half step away from her, but nodded. Siria wrote on the back of her hand with her finger “[Cut]” then drew a line from her knucles to her elbow. When she lifted her finger up, a gash formed along the area, like a delayed strike.

“Now,” Siria said as she swept some balm onto her finger, “I know it works fine, but it works best when the wound is fresh and I’d like to add something for older wounds,” she said as she wiped the balm over the cut. It knitted her skin back together. “As you can see, it seals it up good as new, but, if it’s applied to an older wound or something that wasn’t treated correctly, it can cause an infection. Charlie— Weasley— and I learned that the hard way when he used it on injured Romanian Longhorn they found. It sealed the wound, which I thought was a miracle because it wasn’t made with Dragons in mind, but it was already infected, so…” Siria paused, for Slughorn’s eyes were wide and his mouth open. “Um, Sir?”

“Am I to understand you created this balm?” Slughorn asked and he approached Siria. She extended the container for him to take.  
“Madam Pomfrey did a lot of the work, and we started with a base of a simple cut sealing solution and burn balm… but, I did do a fair bit of thinking,” Siria blushed. “Do you happen to have any ideas about adding an element that could help against infection?”  
“Well…” Slughorn’s eyes took in Siria’s face in a familiar way. The hungry expression that haunted her human dreams. “I suppose that, if given some time, I may be able to assist you. I am rather enjoying my retirement, which I have earned,” he finished in a stern voice and his eyes on Dumbledore.

“Oh,” Siria said as hurt as she could managed. “Of course,” she forced her voice to crack. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to return from retirement to help me with a few silly, little Potions,” Siria said with her eyes at the floor. She wanted to look at Slughorn. His eyes were on her and she knew. “I’m so sorry, sir. With all the new security measures at Hogwarts, I couldn’t even mail you… I’m ridiculous.” She pressed her hand to her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Could I… may I use your washroom?” and she followed his directions to the toilet.

Siria put the lid down and sat for a moment. She checked her watch. Was Sirius still up? How long would she be at the Burrow? Could she talk to the Minister about sending Not-Umbridge to teach at Hogwarts or could she play the part enough to get Slughorn to agree? Then there was the matter of Snape...maybe he’d die like Quirrel or else end up at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, like Lockhart. “But why was he with Lily?”

She turned on the faucet and washed her hands, put in some eye drops, and rubbed her nose. Siria scanned her reflection as she turned off the taps. Anyone who didn’t know would think she cried. If only she’d worn some make up to smear.

“Sorry,” Siria said again. She looked to Dumbledore from the edge of the room. “Professor, I really ought to try and prepare for my meeting with the Minister. I’m so anxious.”  
“You’re leaving?” Slughorn asked. [B6, 73]  
“Again, I’m so sorry to have bothered you,” Siria said. “You have such a lovely home. If I had a place like this, I wouldn’t want to leave it to teach a bunch of silly kids working on wound sealing balms or better lycanthrope cures,” and she shook her head dismissively.

Dumbledore placed his empty glass down and approached Siria. “You’re right my dear,” he said. “Especially after your time abroad, I should have postponed my errand.” Siria dabbed at her eyes with the cuff of her jacket then extended her hand to Slughorn.  
“It was so very nice to meet you,” Siria said. “If you ever leave retirement, I hope I’m still in school,” she added a short laugh.  
“Of course,” Slughorn said, but held onto her hand.  
“I’ll just see if I can continue my Independent Study Potions, and, if security clears up, maybe I could send you a few samples?”  
“Severus approved you for Independent Study?” Slughorn asked, his hand still holding hers.  
“Just for those silly medical ones, really,” Siria said, and let her hand slip from Slughorn’s.

Dumbledore held out his arm, and, as Siria took it, Slughorn said “Wait!” Siria locked eyes with Dumbledore and smirked at him. They wiped their faces of victory to look over their shoulders at him. “I’ll do it,” Slughorn said, “but I want a raise!” [B6, 74]


	4. Meeting with the Minister

**Meeting with the Minister**   


In the dark telephone booth, Siria eyed her makeup. Chloe insisted that Siria needed to look young, which was silly. She was already sixteen and that was the oldest she had ever been. As the light pierced into the bottom of the booth, Siria dropped her mirror into her little purple purse. She felt powerful. Chloe picked out a cute pair of mint flats that matched her mint dress, which Chloe paired with a lilac boyfriend blazer. Siria checked the backs of her dangling black cat earings and tried not to think about her necklaces. Chloe added two silver cuff bracelets and a silver collar necklace, to her usual two chain necklaces.

The moment the telephone booth landed in the atrium, a reporter and photographer were waiting. “You knew they would be,” Siria reminded herself as she held her smile in place and waved. She walked right for the security desk, as the reporter, who she didn’t know, asked her questions. “How does it feel to be back at the Ministry?” the reporter asked.  
“I feel the new Minister really inspires a feeling of safety,” Siria said as the security guard checked her wand.  
“Do you approve of the Minister’s measures?”  
“It’s so nice to see someone in power taking action,” Siria said, as they followed her to the lifts.  
“Is there anything you’d like to tell the public?” The reporter asked as the lift opened for Siria.  
“Just that Voldemort is going down,” Siria said as she pressed the button. She kept her smile wide and in place, as the look of shock on the reporter’s and photographer’s faces shifted out of sight. [STARKID]

People came in and out of the lift as it came to the various floors. No one said anything to Siria, though many people stared. She kept her smile firm and her eyes beyond the lift. Finally, the voice announced: Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff.

An elder secretary mirrored Siria’s smile, as she approached the desk. “Siria Potter-Black,” Siria said, “I have an appointment with the Minister at ten.” The secretary nodded.  
“The Minister will be with you shortly,” she said and pushed the candy bowl toward Siria.  
“May I?” Siria asked and reached for a sucker. The woman nodded. Siria pocketed the wrapper, as she took a seat and enjoyed the moment and the sweet.

Cornelius Fudge was ushered out of office faster than any Minister before him, after Voldemort showed up at the Ministry. In an emergency election, Rufus Scrimgeour, former Head of the Auror office, won in a landslide. It was no surprise; he looked like a lion, even more when compared to the poor hallowed out woman and ratty man he ran against.

Rufus Scrimgeour’s door opened and a black woman stepped out. She had very long black hair kept in fine, small braids. Her eyes narrowed at Siria, who rose as the woman approached. The woman smiled and extended her hand, which Siria shook. “Celeste Ayers, Daily Prophet,” she said. “That’s a fine handshake,” she squeezed Siria’s hand, as she handed Siria a business card. “There are new faces everywhere, thanks to you,” and Ms. Ayers took her leave.

“Ms. Potter-Black,” Rufus Scrimgeour called from his doorway. His hair framed his face like a mane. He stood like a stiff toy soldier, with his shoulders square, legs almost locked, but also somehow ready to pounce. Scrimgeour inspired confidence.

“Minister,” Siria said and curtsied. She bit the sucker off its stick and crunched it as she approached. He held the door open for her and offered her a chair. The room spoke volumes. His desk had shadows of where things had been, Fudge’s things. There were a few shallow dents in the carpet, as the desk had been moved, so he could face the door from his chair. By the bookshelf, the carpet had a square of crunched carpet, where an old rug probably sat before he took over. Scrimgeour had no photos, just a fireplace with a portrait of a man that looked like a toad in a wig over it. The man moved out of his frame as Scrimgeour sat down.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Rufus Scrimgeour said, “it was quite a surprise to receive your letter.”  
“Really, I was even more surprised to get a reply,” Siria held with her smile in place. Her face hurt already. “I wanted us to be on better terms than I was with the previous Minister, and that seemed like it could be a touchy subject, with everything that happened last year.”  
“It was very adult of you,” he said. Siria beamed and let her eyes fall on her lap. She squeezed her purse. “Personally, I think it’s a brilliant idea. You are a very smart young woman, so I’m not surprised.”  
“Thank you,” Siria said. “Though, I doubt you asked me all the way here to talk about extracurriculars.”

“Ms. Potter-Black, there have been a lot of rumors since your last visit to the Ministry. Some people are even going so far as to call you ‘The Chosen One’,” he paused, but Siria didn’t jump in. She read the Daily Prophet, back when it trash talked her and now that it praised her. “Though we both know people can be wrong about these things, it’s put you in the public eye even more than before. People will look to you for support, for morale.” [B6, 343-344]  
“Wow,” Siria said. “That’s kind of crazy. I mean, just last year people were calling me a liar, and now it almosts sounds like they might care what I say.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a folded up letter.

“Sir, I read my mail with care,” Siria said. “My understanding is that you’d like me to be a mascot for the Ministry. It sounds like you want me to tell the Prophet you’re doing a good job, and I think we can come to an agreement on that, but I do have a few terms I hope you can agree to.”  
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve heard from Umbridge that you have an interest in becoming an Auror—”  
“Yeah,” Siria said and pulled out another folded piece of paper, “Umbridge is one of my conditions, so I’m really glad you brought her up,” and Siria placed the unfolded piece of paper on his desk. She slid it toward him. His face tightened as he read the list and thought them over. [B6, 344-347]

“Now, I wouldn’t expect such a mature young woman to propose such childish conditions,” Scrimgeour said as he read over the list again. Siria took a breath and held in her scoff.   
“But, Sir, I thought really hard about these, and I don’t think I can compromise on them— especially points one, two, and five,” Siria said in a voice intentionally higher than her usual one. “If we have our conditions in writing then we can’t forget them, you know.” She looked to her watch, to remind him of the passing time. “If you don’t agree, that’s fine. I’d rather spend the rest of my summer with my dad, but thought I’d at least come down to extend an olive branch.” She gave him another moment to consider the list.

“You’re more than welcome to think it over. After what happened to Bones and Fortescue, I’m sure your plate is really full with assuring the public that everything’s fine,” Siria said as she rose to her feet. “but I have other things to attend to, Minister.” She placed the tips of her fingers on his desk and flexed them, so the scars of “I must not tell lies” flashed. They caught his eyes. “If you find the terms agreeable, you can find me Hogwarts, once school starts, or send letters to ‘Kreacher the House Elf’.”  
“We are not done, Ms. Potter-Black,” he said, but she opened the door.  
“Until you agree to the terms, you’ll find we are,” and Siria took her leave.

In the top office of Moony & Padfoot, Chloe removed Siria’s makeup as Siria finished telling her and Sirius what happened at the Ministry. Chloe shook her head. “I told you as much,” Chloe said.  
“I didn’t doubt you,” Siria said. Sirius typed away on the laptop at his desk.  
“You’re ‘mature’, ‘adult’, and ‘smart’ when things go his way, or when he thinks he can use you, but ‘childish’ the moment you define the line,” Chloe shook her head while she unhooked the collar necklace. “Siria, it sounds like you did a really good job. Especially with those reporters.”  
“Answer the question you wish they asked,” Siria quoted. Chloe and Sirius smiled at her.

Sirius closed his laptop. He watched Chloe and Siria place the jewelry back into their drawers. “What?” Siria asked.  
“You’re… you’re just really growing up,” Sirius said. “I still remembering sleeping on the porch with you. ‘Spent the whole time talking myself into believing Dumbledore was right and it was the best place for you.”  
“You should have just brought her home,” Chloe said. She hugged Siria from behind. “Then I would have seen my cute little niece grow up in person, instead of just inheriting her ten years later.”  
“There might not have been a Chloe,” Sirius said. Siria put her hands on Chloe’s arms, which were around Siria’s shoulders. “Rather, not a Moony & Padfoot. If I got Siria, I would have just dressed her Witches’ clothes. There wouldn’t’ve been a need to make her clothes.”  
“This is kind of depressing,” Siria said. “I imagined my ‘raised by Sirius and Remus’ life to be happy and awesome— and Chloe filled. Like, magic lessons at home and growing up around clothes… Can we go to lunch?”

Lunch was quiet. Chloe did the best show of having a good time. Finally, she stared at Siria and Sirius. “No matter how things might have been, this is how they are,” Chloe said. “Rather than being depressed over what may have, I’m going to focus on being happy that, in all the ways our lives could have played out, we’re here, together— in one of my favorite lunch spots, in my second favorite city in the world, with some of my favorite people.” She cupped Siria’s face in one of her hands. “I wish you didn’t have to grow up with those awful people, but all the wishing in the world won’t change that. You’re here with us now and you don’t ever have to go back there.”  
“Actually,” Siria murmured. “Dumbledore wants me to go back before the term starts.”  
“Why?” Chloe asked. “You already died; it obviously didn’t help much.”  
“We have to believe that Dumbledore knows what he’s doing,” Sirius said. “It’s just a few days, and then back to the Burrow.”  
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Siria asked. “I already spent half the summer somewhere else, and I’ve got the Dursleys’ and more Burrow.”  
“Siria,” Sirius said in a strict tone. She sighed and looked to the dessert case.  
“I know,” Siria said.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you too.”

Over breakfast at the Burrow on her birthday, three owls arrived. They brought the new school lists, as well as Ron and Siria’s O.W.L. results. Siria ripped her envelope open with such force that she tore the contents. She placed them down on the table to read her results:  
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS  
Pass Grades: Fail Grades:  
Outstanding (O) Poor (P)  
Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)  
Acceptable (A) Troll (T) (B6, 102)

Siria Jessica Potter-Black has achieved:  
Astronomy E  
Care of Magical Creatures E  
Charms E  
Defense Against the Dark Arts O  
Divination D  
Herbology E  
History of Magic D  
Potions O  
Transfiguration O  
[B6, 102]

“Three Outstandings,” Sirius said and hugged her. While Mrs. Weasley pointed out that Ron got more O.W.L.s than Fred and George together. “And Quidditch Captain,” Sirius said. He picked up the badge and held it over her dress.  
“I’m not wearing that today,” Siria said while she looked over the booklist. “Slughorn actually assigned a book.”  
“You’re taking Potions?” Ron asked.  
“I’m sure Hermione made it and I’m part of why he’s teaching,” Siria said. “It seems rude, if nothing else, to not try and learn from him. I am a little worried that he assigned a book because we probably won’t be learning from his personal notes then, but maybe it’s a base reference—” Sirius pinched her nose.  
“No more school talk,” Sirius said. “It’s your birthday, my dear, nerdy daughter, please enjoy it in the present. We’ll plan the Diagon Alley trip for when you return from the Dursleys’.”

The Weasley’s hosted Siria’s birthday. Fleur, who was now engaged to Bill, joined them along with Tonks, Hagrid, the Creevey brothers and their mother, Cedric, and Krum. Chloe did Siria’s hair in an elaborate crown braid with flowers woven in. She wore a dark green, knee-length dress with a new, green tinted fake leather Moony & Padfoot jacket. Remus arrived late. Siria left Cedric and dashed to hug Remus.

“I haven’t seen you since I got back!” She complained and hugged him tighter. He was thinner and his skin paler. A few new scars surfaced on his face. She knew there would be more on his arms, even though he wore a long sleeve shirt to cover them. Siria held his face in her hands and met an apologetic smile.  
“Order business,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I did tell you.”  
“You won’t need to do Order business,” Siria said. “Don’t you remember my plan?”  
“I’m part of a back-up plan,” he said. “You always need a back-up.” He patted the top of her head, which was higher than his in her heels. “You look beautiful.” Siria smiled and did a small twirl, to show off the flare of the dress skirt.  
“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” Siria told him. “I’m just trying to celebrate the day. After all, in all the ways my life could have played out, I’m here with the people I love, on my birthday.”

Siria led him by his hand to her chair in the yard, where her bag hung over the back. She took out a few containers of the chartreuse paste and handed them to him. “Take care of yourself,” Siria said. “I hoped you wouldn’t take the assignment.”  
“How else could we infiltrate the werewolves?” Remus asked. “I’m happy to be of use.” He smiled, but the strain in his face just made him look older.

“Wotcha’ got there?” Tonks asked. Siria hugged Remus and glared at Tonks. She buried her face in his shoulder then let go.  
“Just some medical paste,” Siria said. “I haven’t seen you around the office. You two should catch up,” Siria said. Remus held her arm. Siria placed her hand over it. “Lionheart,” she whispered and he let go. Siria extended her hand to Cedric, who sat next to Krum, and they walked around the garden. 

Cedric pointed out the garden gnomes, which he knew Siria found almost as funny as Mr. Weasley did. She felt silly. Sirius assured her that he and Remus were really done and would just be business partners “and occasional co-parents”. Tonks liked Remus. She was a skilled duelist, an Order member, an Auror… if there was anyone other than Sirius for Siria to support, she supposed Tonks would be fine. Cedric let her be distracted and made sure she avoided the gnome burrows.

They looped back around, to the party, and sat together, with Ron and Krum. Chloe let Molly boast, again, about Mr. Weasley’s promotion to Head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects and their recent accomplishments [B6, 84]. “What do we need to promote you to for you to get that excited about work?” Chloe half-joked before she walked up to Siria, Cedric, Krum, and Ron. “I’ll be stealing the birthday girl,” Chloe said as she pinched Siria’s cheeks and chuckled.

“Hey,” Siria groaned, but accepted Chloe’s hug while she got to her feet. Chloe led her a few paces away, to where Tonks and Remus were in view.   
“It’s okay,” Chloe said. She rested her head on Siria’s shoulder “Remus will always love you, no matter who else he has.”  
“What if… what if they get married and have a kid?” Siria whispered. Chloe shook with her soft, silent chuckles.  
“Then you’ll be their best auntie in the world,” Chloe said and gave Siria’s shoulder a squeeze.  
“I’m being ridiculous,” Siria said and hugged Chloe to hide her own face. Chloe shook her head.  
“It’s okay to feel ridiculous, but your feelings are valid. Siria, you are valid. It’s okay to not want your dad’s ex to move on, while loving him and wanting him to be happy with someone else. Love is silly and messy and complicated, even more when you love a lot of people.”  
“You’re going to make me cry,” Siria said as she blinked as fast as she could to hold back her tears. Chloe placed her hand on Siria’s head and patted her hair.

“Er…” Ron said and approached Siria’s side when Chloe left. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” He looked her in the eye and Siria covered her mouth as a giggle escaped.  
“I do tell you everything,” Siria said. “I told you how Chloe said Tonks kept stopping by to see Remus, and how Remus seemed to be avoiding her… and how Sirius seemed happy about Tonks.”  
“But Remus is so old,” Ron said. “Tonks is about Bill’s age.” Siria shrugged.  
“I know I thought Krum and Hermione were a little weird when it happened, but Tonks and Remus both feel like adults, real adults and not on the edge of adulthood ones, so...” Siria shrugged again. She put her arm around Ron’s shoulders, sliding his hand off. “Enough about them, who are we going to date this year?”  
“You’ve already got someone.”

 

Hermione returned just before the start of term. Mrs. & Mr. Weasley, Hagrid, and Sirius accompanied Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Siria to Diagon Alley. To Siria’s mild surprise, the Ministry provided a car. Mrs. Weasley spent much of the time torn between sticking together and finishing the shopping as quickly as they could. They settled for sticking together, and Sirius stuck to Siria’s side like she’d disappear if he turned away.

Once they’d gotten their needed supplies, they headed toward Fred and George’s shop. Siria kept her arm around Hermione’s shoulders, to stop Sirius from doing it to her. Hermione didn’t seem to notice, as she practically slept walked with Siria as her guide, still too tired from her extra schooling. Hagrid led the group like he was ready to plow down a nonexistent crowd while Sirius followed on Siria’s heels.

Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was the flashiest, most violently purple, and brilliant shop Siria had ever seen. There were fireworks in the windows above the shop, like smaller dragons and catherine wheels than they used at Hogwarts. It was an explosion of color, the left of the door, from various goods beneath a banner that read “Even Mum Will Enjoy Some of These”. [B6, 116]

On the opposite side of the door was a purple poster like some of the cautionary Ministry ones… but the purple poster and yellow colored font was the only similarity. In large, bubble letters, the poster flashed:  
WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT  
YOU-KNOW-WHO?  
YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT  
U-NO-POO—  
THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION  
THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION! (B6, 116)

“They’ll be murdered in their beds!” Mrs. Weasley whispered to Mr. Weasley (B6, 116). Sirius shook his head.  
“It’s brilliant, Molly,” Sirius said, “they’ll be fine.” Siria paused and pulled her ear plugs from her pocket. She could already hear some of the thundering booms from inside. Once she had them in, she followed the others into the shop. Hagrid waited outside, too large for the thin walkways between displays. [B6, 116]

Every few steps, Siria bumped into someone. Hermione and Siria found themselves separated from the others within a few minutes. The shop was the only crowded thing in Diagon Alley, and it was as if everyone was crammed inside it. Siria gripped Hermione’s hand tighter, and Hermione nodded.

They walked by Skiving Snackboxes and Canary Creams, trick wands, and enchanted quills that self-inked, spell checked, or shocked the user. Siria picked up a few bottles of Mood Ink for herself and the girls in her dorm. They saw a display with “REUSABLE HANGMAN — SPELL IT OR HE’LL SWING!” They had Snake-In-a-Can, which Siria picked up two of. There were matching rings and ring sets, like Cassius and Siria’s [B6, 116-117]

Fred and George had a display of Disasters In a Box, which included their Portable Swamp, Bottled Tidal Wave, The-Floor-Is-Lava, and Boxed Tornado. There were smaller scaled ones labeled “Go Blow Yourself”, “Shocking”, and “Fiery Temper” that fit into what looked like soda cans.

“You don’t suppose...” Hermione said and pointed to a display of a swooning girl on the deck of a ship with a hot girl, dressed as a pirate standing back-to-back with a boy in similar attire. She pulled Siria to the display and they looked at the boxes of the Patented Daydream Charms. [B6, 117]

“ ‘Whether you want to be swept off your feet by a handsome boy or the girl of your dreams, one simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average lesson…’ “ Siria read with a smile on her face as she looked at the charms.  
“That really is extraordinary magic!” Hermione said as she put the box down.  
“For that, Hermione,” said Fred from behind them, “you can have one for free.” [B6, 117]

“Didn’t we tell you that the magenta washes you out?” Siria said at the sight of his magenta robes. She shook her head, but he looked happy as he shook her hand.  
“I believe you and Chloe said they were too clashing for the normal eye,” Fred said. “Come on,” he let go of her hand to gesture to the shop, “let me give you the tour.” Siria tugged on Hermione’s hand and looked from Fred to Hermione. “Hermione too, of course,” Fred said. “I mean it, about the Daydream Charm too.”

He led them through, by the Muggle Magic Tricks (B6, 118), and to the Practical Magic section. It was full of Eye Masks, which blacked things out for you and made it look like your eyes were open, for in-lesson use; Extendable Ears; Temperature-Regulating Gloves, which heated in cool weather and cooled in hot weather and could even be used for cooking as oven-mitts; there were Night Vision Sunglasses; and their variety of ear plugs that ranged from blocking out loud noises or voices, blocking everything, or blocking specific sounds.

“And here’s George,” Fred said. George wore a set of matching magenta robes. He shook Siria’s hand then Hermione’s and said they had to see the back. As they walked toward it, he pointed to a small boy, beside the EDIBLE DARK MARKS, “Pocket anything, you, and you’ll pay in more than Galleons!” then led Hermione and Siria to the back. [B6, 118]

Their back reminded Siria of Ollivander’s. It was full of tall shelves, stacked to the brim with boxes. They lined it with “Hedera Meridiem,” Hermione grinned. It was the same plant Neville used to light the path to the Chamber of Secrets.  
“Easy to care for, safer than candles, and no wand required,” Fred said.  
“We sent Neville a little something special for his birthday,” George said.  
“He’s impressively good with plants, that one,” Fred added.

“Now, we’re developing a more series line back here,” Fred said as he pulled a box down from the shelf. It was full of hats.  
“You wouldn’t believe how many people, even in the Ministry, can’t do a Shield Charm,” said George. “They didn’t have you to teach them though.”  
“We thought Shield Hats would be a laugh, challenge your mate to jinx you and see their face when it bounces back,” said Fred. “But the Ministry bought five hundred for its support staff and we’re getting massive orders!” They explained how the hats wouldn’t protect against Unforgivable Curses, but general hexes and jinxes. Fred and George went on to show their Instant Darkness Powder, from Peru, and their Decoy Detonators, which run off and cause a diversion. [B6, 118-119]

“Anything catch your eye?” Fred asked after insisting that Siria not pay for the Decoy Detonators he handed her. [B6, 119]  
“Or any questions?” George asked. He leaned against one of the shelves. “We want to keep our investors well informed.”  
“How do I take the ring off?” Siria asked. She noticed that Fred and George wore matching rings that were much more plain than hers. They wore gold bands with crimson engraving that were even simpler than the ones she saw on the floor.  
“No word from Cassius then?” Fred asked. Siria shook her head and Hermione squeezed her hand. She tried to keep it out of her mind.  
“Don’t you…” George started, but stopped. “As long as the ring is stuck, Cassius is fine. Besides, he’s got Alice with him and if there’s anyone aside from you that we’d want on our secret mission, it’d be her.”  
“They’ll be fine, P.B.,” Fred said and extended a box. Siria accepted it, not paying attention. George placed another, with her name, on top. She held the boxes.

Alice and Cassius volunteered to go to Uganda, based on Siria’s talk with Harry Potter. What if it had been a dream? What if she was hopelessly wrong? What if the story was just that, just a story? A cautionary tale to convince people to be nice to others… her heart sank deeper into her stomach.

Fred led them back onto the floor when an employee called for “Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley.” George picked up another box then put his hand on Siria’s shoulder and guided her back to Sirius. She sighed and handed Sirius the boxes as she rummaged for the money pouch that Bill had been kind enough to get, so Siria could avoid the reinforced Gringotts security. George shook his finger at her, as he placed the other box in Sirius’s arms.

“Remember what we said? You don’t pay here,” George said. “We set these things aside as we perfected them, just for you.” He patted the larger box in Sirius’s arms. “You’ll find them perfectly useful for all your mischief needs and more than enough to make the Marauder's proud. There are some boxes for Cassius, when he returns too.”  
“Thanks,” Siria winced a smile.  
“Just focus on schooling and your upcoming N.E.W.T.s,” he said.  
“I don’t want to be told that by you,” she said, but smiled with a little less pain and worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I’m sure Starkid doesn’t own the phrase “Voldemort is going down”, but I was absolutely thinking of them as I wrote it. If you haven’t seen the Potter Musicals, I definitely recommend checking them out (if you like musicals); if you can support them by buying some of their music, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.


	5. The Slug Club

**The Slug Club**  


Kreacher held Siria’s hand as he went over her packed lunch, then confirmed the contents of her truck. “And Kreacher will see Mistress soon,” he said. “If Mistress has forgotten anything, Mistress can call Kreacher and Kreacher will be there.”  
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Siria said. “Please take care of yourself and Sirius while I’m away. I’ll be home for Christmas.”

“He’s really too attached to you,” Sirius said as they climbed into the back of the Ministry provided car. Hermione grinned at Siria.  
“People are like that with Siria,” Hermione said. “Look at Fred and George or Astoria Greengrass.”  
“Fred and George aren’t ‘attached’ to me,” Siria said. “They just think they owe me, for the start up money.” She intentionally didn’t comment on Astoria.  
“And our Map?” Sirius asked, as Fred and George gave Siria the Marauder's Map the year before she and Cassius gave the twins the start up money. Siria rolled her eyes. What did it matter if she was a little likable?

“Dad, is there any word on what happened to Alice and Cassius?” Siria asked. Sirius nodded and Siria held her breath.  
“Swelyn, Kenner, and Flint went to meet Vance and Jones,” Sirius said and she sighed. “They’ll be found, kiddo.” Siria squeezed her ringed finger. Hermione put her hand over Siria’s.  
“Maybe Ron is right and they found it, and its abilities are different than we thought,” Hermione said.  
“We can’t use it if it’s different,” Siria said. She looked deep into Hermione’s eyes and Hermione smiled at her.  
“Wolfsbane Potion,” Hermione said in a quiet, calm voice. Siria closed her eyes.  
“Wolfsbane Potion,” she repeated.

Mrs. & Mr. Weasley were in the parking lot, waiting with Ginny and Ron, when they arrived. The Ministry driver got a trolly for their trunks and walked into King’s Cross with them. Sirius kept his arm around Siria’s shoulder. A Ministry Wizard went first with the trolly. Mr. Weasley took Ginny through next. Siria and Sirius leaned against the barrier before Platforms Nine and Ten. She smiled at Hermione, and slipped through to Platform 9 ¾.

Ron and Siria threw everyone’s trunk into a room near the back of the empty train. “We could sit up front, by the Prefect compartment,” Ron said.  
“Not everyone’s willing to walk all the way down the train, poking around,” Siria said. She pulled on a smile, but Ron clapped her on the shoulder while they walked back toward the platform.  
“You could be on a different train and Malfoy would still go,” Ron said and Siria barked out a laugh.

“Please remember to let me know when the first Hogsmeade trip is, so we can visit you,” Sirius said. Siria sighed.  
“Ask me again and I might force it out of my head,” Siria said and stuck her tongue out.  
“Anyone asks you out, I want to hear about it from you,” he said. He pulled Siria into a hug and dropped his voice. “I know you worry you can’t trust Dumbledore, but he wants to keep you safe almost as much as I do. Please, Siria, listen to him. Unless your heart tells you otherwise.” He tapped the side of her head with a finger. “Don’t overthink it. You have good instincts when you hold back your temper.” He let her go so she could be hugged by Mrs. Weasley.

“Take care of yourself, dear,” Mrs. Weasley requested. Siria nodded and tightened the hug.  
“I’ll look after Ron, though he takes better care of me than I do of him,” she said.  
“You’re sweet,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I’d like to say you get it from your parents, but sometimes I think you managed to grow kind on your own.” Siria blushed and laughed.  
“A flower growing in the cupboard under the stairs,” Siria joked.  
“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked and looked Siria square in the face.  
“I don’t stay in the cupboard anymore,” Siria said. Mrs. Weasley’s eyes flashed like a dragon’s. She patted Siria’s shoulder, but her hands trembled. “I’m okay,” Siria added, “and I don’t have to go back again.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley said with Siria’s face in her hands. “Yes, well… I know Barbara wants you for Christmas Eve, but Arthur and I hope to have you and Sirius for Christmas Day, so I expect you’ll have a busy Holiday.” Control strained each word Mrs. Weasley spoke and didn’t show a speck of her outrage.  
“I look forward to it,” Siria said. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’ll see you then.” She knew Mrs. Weasley felt bad about Siria staying in cupboard, but Siria didn’t, not anymore. Sirius hugged Siria again before he urged her, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny onto the train.

Ginny broke away, near where she would meet Dean Thomas later. Ron complained the moment he, Hermione, and Siria closed the door of their compartment. Siria stared into the empty compartment across the way. Alice, Cassius, Cedric, Maddy, and Patricia graduated last year. Somehow, it finally sunk in. With Cassius and Alice missing…

“Hey Neville, Luna,” Hermione greeted as the compartment door opened. Hermione and Ron stepped out to go to the Prefect compartment.  
“Mind if we join you?” Neville asked. He was a plump, round faced boy that was prone to clumsiness. Siria chuckled.  
“I hoped you would,” Siria said. Neville and Luna entered and sat across from Siria. Luna’s wand was tucked into a bun of her wavy, dirty blonde hair and she wore a pair of rainbow-lensed glasses. While Siria wouldn’t say they complimented Luna’s butterbeer cap necklace, they were very Luna and that was even better.

“How was your summer?” Siria asked and Luna told them about her and her father’s trip for Crumpled Horn Snorkacks. Neville pulled out a wand and showed it to Siria.  
“Gran was really reluctant to have me stop using my dad’s old wand, but she really likes you,” Neville said, “so she decided it was alright. I’m glad we went when we did because Ollivander was gone the next day.” Siria smiled at the wand. She hoped that a good one that would listen chose Neville. His father’s wand was a good one, but it didn’t agree with Neville. [B6, 137] Siria was half glad just to have remembered his birthday this year; it was the least she felt she owed Neville.

Siria pulled out the lunch Kreacher packed, which was full of sandwiches. He made peanut-butter, banana, and jelly; turkey and cheese with the works; and, wrapped in seaweed and rice, cucumber kimchi with pickled radishes and beef bulgogi. Siria swept up one of the rice sandwich halves and dove in while Neville grabbed a turkey and Luna picked up one of rice ones as well.

“It’s pretty,” Luna said at the sandwich. Siria didn’t agree, but nodded. She supposed the yellow of the radish was pretty in its own way, but mostly it was delicious.  
“It might be a little spicy,” Siria warned Luna, who smiled.  
“Do you like spicy food?” Luna asked.  
“Certain kinds,” Siria said. “I’m a baby when it comes to jalapeños, but okay with kimchi.” She watched Luna bite into the sandwich. Her protuberant eyes squeezed shut. Luna nodded. Siria managed to get Neville to try a bite of hers. He decided to stick to the turkey.

“When is the first DA meeting?” Luna asked over her copy of The Quibbler.  
“I’m hosting Quidditch tryouts on Saturday, so Sunday,” Siria said. “Since Cassius isn’t around, I’ll be trading around with Hermione and,” she looked from Luna to Neville. “I was hoping you two might consider leading or helping with—” Neville inhaled the bite he held in his mouth. He clapped a hand to his throat.

“Choking!” Siria panicied. She didn’t remember the choking spell. Luna pulled her wand from her bun and pointed it at Neville’s throat.  
“Anapneo,” Luna said and Neville took a normal breath. [B6, 144] She tucked her wand behind her ear, like a pencil. “Oh, I don’t think anyone would want to learn from me, but it was very nice of you to ask.”  
“Not me,” Neville said and shook his head. Neither commented on Neville choking. “I mean, I’d be happy to learn from you,” he told Luna, “but no one would want to learn from me.”  
“Well… the offer stands, if either of you change your mind,” Siria said. She wanted to urge them and argue, but didn’t feel close enough to either to do so.

As if saying the world was intent on not helping, the compartment door slid open. Romilda Vane, flanked by some fellow fourth and fifth year girls, put a foot into the compartment. “Siria, why don’t you sit with us? You don’t have to sit with them,” she said in such an obnoxious stage whisper that younger Siria would have tackled her to the ground. [B6, 138]  
“That is an offer,” Siria stated with flickers of her temper, “but I’d rather stay with my friends. Especially with Voldemort running a public campaign of terror, sticking to skilled duelists sounds like it’s in my better interest.”

Romilda seemed torn between glaring at Siria, at Neville and Luna, or leaving. Siria rose to her feet and walked to the doorway. She towered over Romilda, who inched her foot out of the compartment. Then Siria pulled the door shut.

“People expect you to have cooler friends than us,” said Luna [B6, 139]. Siria huffed sigh.  
“Then have a crummy definition of ‘cool’,” Siria said. Luna and Neville went to the Ministry with Siria. They trained in Dumbledore's Army with her.

Neville fell back onto the topic of his grandmother. The woman had a very flattering opinion of Siria, that Siria wished extended to Neville. There was a life where Neville was “The Chosen One”. [B6, 139-140]. Siria reached for Neville’s hand and, when he moved his closer to hers, she held it. “Thank you,” Siria said. “Just for being you. I think you’re really brilliant.”

Ron dove into the turkey sandwiches the moment he and Hermione entered. Hermione took a rice sandwich and sat beside Siria. She dug through her trunk for a book. “You’ll never guess who ditched Prefect duties,” Ron said. Siria ran over the Prefects she knew, but shrugged. “Malfoy. He’s just lounging in his compartment on Parkinson’s lap.” [B6, 140] Maybe the other Potters were right about their Malfoys and Siria was wrong about hers.  
“Meh,” Siria said and gave a half shrug, as Hermione opened her book and leaned on Siria’s shoulder.  
“I expected you to care more,” Ron said. She did. Her insides were twisted panic. If she was wrong about Malfoy, what else was she wrong about? Was this why Alice and Cassius were still gone? How wrong was she?  
“It’s whatever,” Siria said. “I mean, it’s not like he needs to be a Prefect or anything. Maybe he’s over abusing power.” She couldn’t panic in front of Luna and Neville. Not yet.

When the door of the compartment opened, Siria expected the spoken of Slytherin to calm her nerves. It was not. A third-year-girl stammered in front of them and held out two rolls of parchment. Hermione, who was closest to the door, accepted them. She handed them off to Neville and Siria, who thanked the girl. She nodded while she rushed to close the door and hit her head on it, then dashed off.

“Slughorn invited us to lunch,” Siria said with a sigh. She looked to Neville, who nodded.  
“Who is Slughorn?” Neville asked.  
“The new Potions teacher,” Siria said and closed her eyes.  
“Potions?” Hermione gasped. She shut her book and sat up to eye Siria. “Are you sure?” Siria nodded. Hermione leaned into Siria’s ear and whispered “Are you okay?”  
“Wolfsbane Potion,” Siria murmured with a nod. Hermione squeezed her hand.  
“Okay. Well, be back soon,” Hermione said. “You already ate and all, but we’ll save you the last pickled radish sandwich half.”  
“Thanks,” Siria said. “Load up on chocolate frogs for us,” she added and handed Hermione a few Galleons.”

“But why does he want me there?” Neville asked as he and Siria walked down the corridor [B6, 142]. Siria shrugged, though figured it was to see if Neville was like his father. She felt she made the right choice with her violet laced chelsea boots, black slacks, Lights T-shirt, and deep, dark green Moony & Padfoot jacket. Eyes glued themselves to compartment windows as she and Neville passed. Some people opened their doors to lean out and get a better look.

“This is the price of fame,” Siria reminded herself. It’s what the Minister wanted to use her for, and was probably why Slughorn wanted her for his collection. Neville slowed and Siria, who matched his pace, did the same.

“Did you… you don’t have to, but…” Neville muttered. “Would it help if…like in the compartment...” and he opened his hand for her. “Since, you and Hermione… but I understand if—” Siria took hold of his hand.  
“Thanks,” Siria said. “People are going to think you’re my boyfriend, just so you know.”  
“That would be better than what most people think about me,” Neville said. Siria walked a little taller.  
“Then they ought to open their eyes,” Siria said. “Possibly dating me is the least impressive thing about you.”

She slid the door open, with Neville’s hand still in hers. Slughorn’s eyes went from her face, to Neville’s, then their hands. He smiled like he made the right decision. There were more people in the compartment than Siria expected. Neville squeezed her hand and she was twice as glad to have taken him up on his offer.

“Siria, my dear girl,” said Slughorn. He rose to shake her hand, then Neville’s. Neville took hold Siria’s hand once Slughorn freed his. “And you must be Mr. Longbottom, I knew your father,” Slughorn said. Neville did not look encouraged. The only two open seats in the compartment were opposite each other, on opposite sides of the door. He held Siria’s hand for a moment longer, before resigning himself to take one of the open seats, beside a handsome, black boy from their year in Slytherin. Siria sat and extended her leg across the floor, so her boot knocked into Neville’s shoe. [B6, 143]

Slughorn introduced, Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin from their year. There was also Cormac McLaggen, from Gryffindor, and Marcus Belby. He gestured to a girl, crammed in the corner of the compartment— Ginny. [B6, 143]

He took out a picnic basket and explained that the trolly food didn’t sit well with his stomach, so he packed a lunch. It was as good a reason as any to bring them together and make introductions. Slughorn handed around some pheasant as he explained why each of them was there:  
Marcus Belby was nephew to Danicles Belby, maker of the Wolfsbane Potion, though Belby’s father fought with his brother, and caused Belby to not see his uncle; Cormac McLaggen’s uncle Tiberius went hunting with Rufus Scrimgeour, before Scrimgeour took over as Minister. Slughorn skipped over Belby as he handed around a plate of small pies. [B5, 144-145]

“Belby,” Siria said and extended her plate toward him. “If you have room, would you like mine? I’ve got some things I have to take care of, so I need to head out.”  
“Oh, nonsense,” Slughorn said, and took the small pies out to hand Belby one, “there’s enough for everyone. Why don’t you stay a little longer?”  
“I would,” Siria said. “I really would, but I made other plans. I just didn’t want to be rude and turn down your invitation.” She slid her pie onto Belby’s plate then locked eyes with Slughorn. “It would be like turning down an invitation from the Minister, you know.”  
“Well, I’ll be sure to give you a better notice for the next get together,” Slughorn said with a chuckle.  
“That would be lovely,” Siria said, as she slid the compartment door open. “Ginny, Neville, are you still coming?”  
“The three of you had plans?” Slughorn asked.  
“It’s Dumbledore’s Army related, so I’d be hard pressed without them,” Siria said. Ginny got to her feet and hurried out, ahead of Neville. They waved and closed the door.

“What were you even doing there?” Siria asked Ginny. Why invite one Weasley sibling over the other? Ginny sighed.  
“He saw me hex Zacharias Smither— that idiot from the D.A.— because he wouldn’t stop asking me about the Ministry,” Ginny said while they walked down the hall. “Thought he was going to give me a detention, but he invited me to lunch.”  
“Do we really have D.A. stuff?” Neville asked.  
“So you got the okay after all?” Ginny asked. Siria nodded to Ginny.  
“I justed wanted out of there,” Siria said. “I need to attend some of his get togethers, but it ticks me off how he invites someone then skips over them because they aren’t what he thought.” Ginny went back to her compartment with Dean.  
“You’re fair like that,” Neville said. Siria laughed.  
“Neville, I’m a lot of things, but ‘fair’ isn’t one of them,” and slid their compartment door open.

They changed into their school robes as the sky grew dark and the Hogwarts Express neared Hogsmeade Station. Ron and Hermione paused in front of the carriages. He pointed at the reptilian, winged horses and mouthed, wordlessly. Hermione clutched Siria’s arm. “This is… oh, my,” Hermione said.  
“Congratulations,” Siria said while she offered her free hand to Luna, to step into the carriage. “You’ve both processed my death and can see Thestrals.” Ron scanned around, for another way to the castle. Siria pointed out the boats, with the first years, and Ron climbed inside. The lot of them shared a quiet carriage ride up to the castle.

Filch waited outside with a suspicious looking rod. He ran it over each student and told them, as part of a security measure, all their mail would be searched. Filch whacked a few people with the rod, including Crabbe and Goyle, who he confiscated something from. He ended by telling them that “And I better not find anything from those WEASLEYS” with a glare at Ron then Ginny. [B6, 235]

Luna broke away in the Great Hall, to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Hermione, Neville, Ron and Siria sat together, at the Gryffindor Table. People filed in from the carriages. Hagrid snuck in, as much as anyone twice the height and four times the width of any other man could sneak. When the doors of the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall lead the first years in, the roaring chatter of the Hall fell silent.

Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat down on the stool. The brim of the Hat ripped open and Sorting Hat belted out a song:

To divide you into Houses is my task  
But this division is just a mask  
We’ve convinced ourselves is needed for far too long  
Because it’s together that we stand strong  
Slytherin, the Ambitious and Cunning.  
Reach out to others, show your type of loving  
Ravenclaw, the Witty and Clever  
There is more than knowledge worth your endeavor  
Hufflepuff, the Loyal and True  
Work together or chaos will ensue  
Gryffindor, the Chivalrous and Brave,  
Have more than face that they must save  
If those inside us cannot come together  
Then the darkness outside will be sure to sever  
The bonds in our lives we hold so deep  
And tear apart the strength we seek to keep  
Take in these words and keep them near:  
Stand united against the darkness and your fear  
And nurture the families you’ve made here.  


Scattered applause echoed around the Great Hall. It died under Professor McGonagall’s flick of the names list. “Ayers, Vinay,” stumbled forward when Professor McGonagall called him. The small boy disappeared beneath the Sorting Hat. He was Sorted into Hufflepuff. More than the Hufflepuff table applauded, as Bianca Storm and Cedric Diggory encouraged last year.

“Ayers, Vijaya ” went next. She was frozen to the stool after the Sorting Hat called out “Slytherin”. Vijaya Ayers looked from her brother at the politely clapping Hufflepuff table to the roaring Slytherin table. Professor McGonagall tilted her head toward the Slytherin table, in a gesture that said “go on”. Ayers sunk into the Slytherin table with tears in her eyes.

The rest of the Sorting went off smoothly and quickly, considering the hundred-fifty or so students that were sorted. Due to the Sorting Hall at Asadal, several students could be sorted at once there; it made Siria wonder why there was only one Sorting Hat instead of ten. Then again, they Sorted on how students learned and students could retake their Sorting. At Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat was the only word. Baek told them “Gryffindors can grow into their mantle of bravery,” and it somehow felt more true here. These are the new faces of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin: small, scared, and starting in a year of active terror.

Dumbledore told them to tuck in. Hermione leaned into Siria’s ear to whisper. “You have that look on your face, like you’re ready to start a fight,” she said.  
“No new ones,” Siria said, “just ready to finish one.” She absently grabbed some food. Hermione nodded. Neville handed her the mixed vegetables.  
“We will, soon,” Hermione said as she dumped a scoop of vegetables onto Ron’s plate.  
“In time for Christmas?” Siria half hoped and half joked while Hermione added vegetables to her own plate and Siria’s. Hermione glanced around.  
“[Depends on the Horcruxes, doesn’t it?]” Hermione asked in Korean.  
“Cas’ee’hus an’ A’wice go’ the’hair par’,” Ron said through a mouthful of brisket in English.  
“[I hope they got their part,]” Siria said, noting the watchful eyes that Hermione did, “[we need to proceed with the Seals. I believe in Alice and Cassius.]” Her attention snapped a few seats down.

“Dennis!” Siria snapped. Neville startled and dropped his fork. Dennis tucked his hands under the table while he looked to Siria then down.  
“Siria,” Colin leaned around Dennis and waved with a wide smile. “How was your summer?”  
“Uh-huh,” Siria said. “Okay, my summer was fine. How was yours?”  
“It was good,” Colin said and nudged Dennis, who turned, so Siria couldn’t see his plate. Siria got up and walked over, as she eyed the dishes around them. There were some small, familiar dishes scattered around the table.

“May I?” Siria asked and gestured to the side dishes in front of the Creevey Brothers. Colin went pale.  
“You, er, probably don’t want to,” he said.  
“Is that what Dennis spit out?” Siria asked in a tone that told them she knew. Dennis nodded. He rubbed his hand on a napkin. “It’s fine to spit something out if you don’t like it or it surprised you, but you’re old enough to know better than to drop it on the floor.” She picked up the various small serving dishes.  
“Sorry,” Dennis mumbled.  
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Siria said. “I’m not mad at you, but someone has to clean these floors and there’s enough food that gets spilt accidentally.”  
“I… yeah,” Dennis said. She took the sides back to her seat. Ron had grabbed chicken galbi and rice. They made room for the dishes around them. Hermione dug in.

“And here I thought we wouldn’t get kimchi until Christmas,” Hermione said. “I love our food, but it’s so heavy sometimes.” She hummed with contentment. “I hope they do some Ugali with a good stew once it’s colder,” Hermione said and poked around. “Do you suppose I could request some Githeri? What am I saying? The house elves work hard enough.” She shook her head. “Do you suppose students can use the kitchens?” Hermione asked.  
“No!” Ron and Siria agreed.  
“ ‘Mione, I love you, I really, really do,” Siria said, “but I still remember the Great Dduk Guk Fiasco of 2016.”  
“It was an honest mistake,” Hermione said. She stuffed a hand wrap of seaweed, rice, galbi, and pickled radish in her mouth.  
“And the curry?” Ron asked.  
“That’s really not fair,” Hermione said. “I’ll show you. I’ll ask to use the kitchen this week and make something delicious.”  
“Just don’t poison any house elves,” Ron told her.  
“Ready for that first D.A. meeting?” Siria asked, loudly, over Hermione’s gasp. Neville joined in the D.A. talk, which continued through dessert.

Dumbledore rose as the plates cleared and the Great Hall quieted. “To our new students, welcome. To our old ones, welcome back. I would like to note, though many of you have already seen, there have been some security enhancements throughout the grounds. Please refer to your new student handbooks, which will be on your bedside tables for full details.

“New students are to be advised that the Forest is off limits, and some old students would be good to remember,” he said. Dumbledore gave Siria a small glance, which gave her the urge to march straight into the Forest. “There are some staff changes. I would like to welcome back an old colleague, Horace Slughorn, who will be taking over Potions—” A sea of whispered echoes broke out through the Great Hall. Dumbledore allowed them for a moment, then raised a gloved finger. [B6, 166

“Professor Snape, has agreed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts…” Dumbledore was interrupted before he even finished, by cheers from the Slytherin table. There was at least one Slytherin not clapping, Malfoy. He levitated his fork with a look of complete disinterest. Siria couldn’t help it. “[Down]!” She thought and yanked her fist downward. The fork hit the table, but didn’t plunge in, like she hoped. Malfoy glanced around, but Siria already had her eyes back on Dumbledore, who continued to give out notices like that the full banned item list was on Filch’s office door and when Quidditch tryouts were. [B6, 167

Hermione rose to gather the first years with the new Prefets. “Should we sneak around the short way?” Ron suggested.  
“We can lead the first years,” Siria said. “I can follow up the back. Neville?”  
“I’ll go with you,” he said. Ron nodded and got up to lead the first years with Hermione. Neville and Siria followed behind, with the Creevey Brothers.

“But, at your party, Cedric said you were dating,” Colin said, as Siria caught him by the arm, so he didn’t trip in his attempt to skip up the stairs.  
“We are, but we agreed to see other people too,” Siria said. “Ced’s out of school, so it’ll be hard to meet up. He’s seeing some Moony & Padfoot intern too.”  
“Isn’t that cheating?” Dennis asked. “Because it sounds like he’s cheating on you, or her, or both of you.”  
“It isn’t cheating because I know he’s seeing her and I’m fine with it and she knows he’s seeing other people too,” Siria said. “Dating Lily Moon was fun, and probably a good starting relationship, but I feel like I’m not enough for one person.”  
“You’re definitely enough,” Colin said.  
“You’re the best,” Dennis added. “Did Cedric talk you into it?” Siria laughed.  
“I suggested it to him,” she said. “I didn’t want him to be lonely when I couldn’t see him or, if we wanted to break up, have to do it by mail, mirror, or end up in this weird stage where we want to break up, but can’t meet up.”

“What does Sirius think?” Colin asked, as though that would solve it.  
“Sirius gave me the idea,” Siria said. “He said he once dated a girl and three guys at once, and that he might take dating like that back up.”  
“What if someone wants to date you exclusively?” Neville asked. Siria shrugged.  
“That’s not what I’m looking for, so I’d probably turn them down,” Siria said. They paused at the end of the group of first years, who stood before the Fat Lady’s Portrait.  
“So you’ll date anyone, as long as they’re okay with you seeing other people too?” Neville asked.  
“Yeah, I mean, as long as I want to date them too. I’m not about to see Romilda Vane, but, you know, if Luna were queer,” Siria said.

“Kid,” Siria said as she helped Dennis through the portrait hole, “you have got to drink some more milk or something.” He was barely taller than the first year students. Colin was not much taller.  
“It’ll be harder to hit me in a duel,” Dennis said. Siria chuckled.  
“Something like that,” she said. “Go get some sleep,” she ruffled his hair, “you’ve got two days of classes to get through. Stay off Filch’s raidar.”  
“Good night, Siria,” Neville said after the Creevey Brothers did.  
“‘Night Neville, see you in the morning.”


	6. Mayhem at Myrtle’s

**Mayhem at Myrtle’s**   


Siria shuddered from the sudden cold, as she startled awake. A transparent torso hovered through her legs, at the end of the bed. Pigtails and mopey eyes leaned closer. Siria rose up, leaned back, and picked her wand up, careful not to pull Hermione’s hair. She slid her glasses on.

“Myrtle,” Siria whispered as she stepped out of bed and grabbed her jacket. She had not ever been someone to take wake quick, but no one ever had a ghost float through her either.  
“I need your help,” Myrtle said as Siria swept her Invisibility Cloak, and the Marauder's Map from her trunk and pulled on a pair of shoes.  
“I figured as much,” Siria whispered. “Should I wake Hermione?” Myrtle shook her head.  
“Peeves has Filch in the Trophy Room,” Myrtle said, “there’s an issue at my toilet.” Siria nodded and followed Myrtle out. Myrtle went ahead. Siria disappeared under the Cloak.

Water filled the corridor that led to Myrtle’s bathroom. Siria dried the water as she ran along. “Was there a duel?” Siria asked over the water that hissed and roared from the broken pipes, pieces of stall, and shards of shattered porcelain. The bathroom shuddered as it cried. “Reparo Maxima!” Siria thought and swished her wand at the right side of the bathroom. The splintered stalls reassembled and pipes repaired.

Myrtle hovered over the sinks and pointed beneath her. Siria repaired the other side of the bathrooms. She dried the water as she approached. Someone sniffled under the sinks. A small child was crouched beneath the back sinks. She had long, thick, kinky dark hair, weighed down by the water.

“I just,” she sniffled, “I just don’t want to be in Slytherin!” The bathroom shuddered as she did. Siria crouched down, a few paces away, and cleared her throat. The girl looked at her.  
“Why is that?” Siria asked.  
“Only bad people go in Slytherin— I’m not bad,” she cried. “My whole family is in Hufflepuff, even my brother and he always cheats!” Siria gritted her teeth. She didn’t know what to do.  
“Merlin was a Slytherin,” Siria wanted to say, but thought about how Sirius talked to her. If she was upset, he didn’t argue, if he could help it. How did he talk with her?

“What would you like to do?” Siria asked. She tried to be confident about it, but felt anything she said would be wrong.  
“I want to see my brother,” she cried, “but not like this.” She held out her arm, which, like the rest of her, was drenched.  
“I can fix that,” Siria said. She pointed her wand at the water and ground and dried up what was left up. “Is that better?” Siria asked and the girl gave a small nod. “Okay. Who’s your brother?”  
“Vinay Ayers,” she said. “I’m Vijaya.”  
“It’s nice to meet you, Vijaya. My friends call me ‘P.B.’, if you’d like to call me that too,” Siria said. The girl hugged her knees, but nodded. “I’m going to step away, just a few paces, and I’m going to get you to your brother, okay?” She nodded again.

Siria stepped away and patted herself down. She didn’t have any mirrors on her. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to remember where a mirror to anyone still in Hufflepuff was. “What do you need?” Myrtle asked.  
“To make sure someone can let us into Hufflepuff,” Siria said. “I know the way, but not the password.”  
“I’ll make sure someone meets you,” Myrtle said. She pushed her glasses up, from the tip of her nose. “Give me five minutes!” And she flew through the floor.

“Vijaya,” Siria said while she approached the spot under the sinks, “Myrtle is going to make sure your brother is up, so you can talk with him.” She knelt down, just out of arm's reach. “Did you want to talk about what happened?”  
“I… I was looking for the Headmaster,” she said. “Everyone— everyone says ‘Dumbledore is fair’, so…” she sniffled. “So I wanted to change Houses, but— but I know he won’t. I just… I wanted to try, but I thought Mrs. Norris saw me and… and so I hid here, but…”  
“Accidentally magic happens,” Siria said. “It sounds like that was really scary and stressful, but you did really well.”  
“I destroyed the bathroom,” she told her knees.  
“Did you?” Siria asked and made a show of looking around. “Must have been a different bathroom because this one looks fine.”  
“You fixed it,” she said and rolled her eyes. Siria smiled and Vijaya mimicked it, despite herself.

“Are you ready to see your brother?” Siria asked. Vijaya nodded. “Okay,” Siria said and pulled her Invisibility Cloak over them. She pressed her finger to her lips in a silent “Shush”. They walked slower than Siria would normally would have, but Vijaya’s steps were much smaller.

After a moment of waiting, Myrtle’s head poked out of a barrel in the hall. “Here,” Siria whispered. Myrtle nodded. The barrel flipped open to the same earthy passage Siria walked down in her second year. Hannah Abbott smiled at the empty corridor. Vijaya looked to Siria. Her eyes were wide. “I’ll go first,” Siria whispered, “if that’s okay with you.”  
“I… suppose that’s okay,” Vijaya said. Siria took the Cloak off.  
“Your brother is really excited to see you,” Hannah said, and led the way down.

There was something nice about the warmth of the passage. It complimented the quiet laughter they approached. The Hufflepuff common room hadn’t changed. Honey yellows with black trim filled the room of mostly soft objects. “Comfy” described it best. There were hive like hexagons of black trim in the plush, fluffy yellow carpet. They had circular sofas around round tables and a hand stitched tapestry of Helga Hufflepuff.

Hannah pointed to Vijaya’s brother and Vijaya ran to him. Siria was frozen with eyes on the tapestry. Helga Hufflepuff was beautiful, to be sure, but the Golden Cup in her hands called to Siria. That was it. That was the Cup she had to find. She took a breath and focused back on the common room.

It was full of people. The first years were still up. There were trays of tea, coffee, and snacks on the various tables. At least half the House seemed to still be up. Siria looked to her watch; it was barely after ten, but still late for a school night without homework.

“It’s Siria Potter,” someone whispered and it spread. She regretted not leaving the Cloak on. The only good thing was no one seemed to the notice the crying first year girl hug her distressed brother. Siria waved. Hannah put an arm around the air over Siria’s shoulder, careful not to touch her, and waved.

“Potter-Black,” Ernie MacMillan approached from the crowd. He clapped Siria’s hand when he shook it. “Knew you had a soft spot for kids, but to sneak out of bed to help a stranger is… well,” he laughed.  
“Yeah…” Siria said. She tucked her hands into her pockets and nodded at Justin Finch-Fletchley. “Good to see you.”  
“Heard you’re bringing back the D.A.,” Ernie said while they stood in the common room entryway.  
“I am,” Siria said. “Everyone is welcome, of course. Hermione’ll be running it though.” Ernie nodded and tilted his head in.  
“She worried your fame will cause a flood of new people?” Ernie asked in a very low tone. Siria gave a single nod.  
“You know Hermione,” Siria said clearly, “she’s three steps ahead of half of us.”  
“And still a good step ahead of the rest,” he said.  
“Ernie, it’s late,” Hannah said. “Myrtle said she woke her. Siria, do you want a cuppa?”

“About that,” Siria said while they walked to the table Justin sat at. “Why is everyone partying?”  
“It’s a welcome party, of sorts,” Hannah said. “Hufflepuff has a bit of a reputation for being ‘the leftovers’ or a lesser House, so some people are sad be Sorted here.” She handed Siria a tea cup. “We want them to know that it’s okay to feel that way, but that it isn’t true.”  
“It’s a meet-and-greet kind of thing too,” Justin said while he pushed the sugarcubes Siria’s way. “So they know who the older students are, who they can ask for help with on what, and know they’re welcome.” Siria poured the tea over her sugarcubes and wondered why Gryffindor didn’t do that.

“Ravenclaw started doing it a few years back,” Ernie said. “Got the idea from us,” he added.  
“Storm said they used to do it, before the war,” Hannah noted. “She picked it back up as a second-year, if you can believe it. It’s no wonder she was Head Girl.”  
“She’s training to be a Healer now,” Siria said. “She wrote me over summer that she’s ahead of some of the other students because of the D.A., though I think most of that is her.”  
“I’m glad you’re still doing the D.A.,” Hannah said. “You’re the best teacher we’ve had since Professor Lupin.” Siria blushed.

“Could I talk to you?” Susan Bones asked. She had walked up behind Siria. Her hands held her elbows, behind her back. Siria expected this, but was still a little surprised.  
“Of course,” Siria said. She hopped over the back of the sofa and walked, to the wall, with Susan Bones. Susan said nothing and focused on the floor before her. She paused.

“I…” Susan started. She took a breath. “I won’t demand you let me help, but, I hope that, if there is anything I can do to help you take down V— Vol— demort that you let me know.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “That— he killed my Aunite. I was with her, until the day before.” Susan looked at Siria. There were tears in her eyes. “Siria, I’ve never wished suffering on anyone and I want him to suffer more than anyone ever has.”  
“I have a plan,” Siria said.  
“I know,” Susan said. “So, let me know if a place in it opens for me.”  
“Thank you, Susan. I’m sorry about your Aunt,” Siria said. They stood against the wall until Susan excused herself for bed.

Siria returned to her cold tea, which she finished, then went to collect Vijaya Ayers. Vijaya was passed out on the sofa, with her brother, a few other first years, Myrtle, and— Siria’s heart leapt to her throat— Lily Moon. Siria looked to Myrtle. “Would you go wake our mutual friend?” Siria asked her. “I’ll get her back, but don’t know the password.” Myrtle looked from Siria to Lily Moon, an eyebrow raised. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, but she nodded and flew off.

“Pardon me, Ms. Moon,” Siria said with a short laugh, as she stepped over the back of the sofa. “Ayers,” Siria whispered. “We have to get you back to your dorm, kiddo.”  
“Mnn,” Vijaya groaned. She unwrapped herself from her brother then held out her arms.  
“You want me to carry you?” Siria asked. Vijaya nodded and yawned. Siria scrunched her nose, but sighed and picked Vijaya off the sofa.  
“Slytherins,” Siria thought.  
“Did you really date Lily?” one of the first years asked as he got up to let Siria by.  
“That’s Moon to you, and yeah,” Siria said. “She’s out of your league though,” and Siria stuck out her tongue.  
“Did you want a hand?” Lily Moon asked. She had always been cute. The way her freckles highlighted when she blushed and how she blushed so often, but it was different. She got prettier over summer; there were more freckles, her hair looked silkier, and she had grown up.  
“Naw,” Siria said and shook her head. “You look great, as always, Moon,” Siria added. “I’ll see you around.”

When she was younger, Siria wanted a younger sibling. Someone she could tell Snuffles about and share him with. Someone to carry to bed the way Vernon used to carry Dudley. As she carried Vijaya through the castle, at midnight, she realized how silly that was. Siria kicked the wall with her foot. Myrtle poked her head out.

“It’s me,” Siria hissed. She pulled the Cloak off with one hand, as Myrtle disappeared behind the wall again.  
“Who do you think—” Malfoy started, but stopped when he saw the girl in Siria’s arms. He crossed his arms and straightened up. “Don’t expect me to carry that Halfblood,” he said as scathingly as he could manage. Siria rolled her eyes and shunted him with her shoulder, as she stepped in.  
“Just needed someone to open the door,” Siria said.  
“You know other Slytherins,” Malfoy said, as he walked behind her. “The Greengrass Sisters, Bulstrode.”  
“Haven’t you heard of Beauty Sleep?” Siria asked. She wedged the door of the girl’s dorm open, with her foot. “You’re pretty enough without it,” Siria added as she slipped through. Myrtle led Siria to Ayers’s dorm, where Siria tucked her in and slipped out.

Malfoy was in an armchair, in the mostly dark, barely lit by the Lake. He glared at Siria while she stepped in. She sighed. “This is the last favor, Potter-Black,” he said. “And it was for Myrtle, not you.” He leaned back in the chair. “You need to stay away from me.” Siria sat down on the coffee table in front of him, her eyes on his.

“Are you out to get me, Draco?” Siria asked. His jaw tightened. His grip on the arm rests of the chair tightened.  
“Maybe,” he said with an air of projected cool. “I will, if you don’t stay out of my way.”  
“Why can’t we help each other?” Siria asked. She slid a little closer. His cold silver eyes narrowed at her knees.  
“I’m not the person you built me up to be,” Malfoy said. “I don’t care about being ‘good’ anymore.” Siria wanted to lean forward more, but remembered how often he stepped away when she got close.  
“And I just want this war to be over,” Siria said. “I tell you what, Draco—”  
“Don’t call me that.”  
“Malfoy…” Siria adjusted. “You know how to find me when you’re ready to end the war. In the meantime,” she pulled one of her necklaces off. It was a long, simple silver chain with a coin like pendant on it. One side of the coin had Canis Major, the other a Goldenrod. She held out the necklace. “Try and remember that we’re two sides of the same coin.”  
“You should throw it away,” he said. His knuckles were white on the armrests.  
“My friend gave it to me,” she said. “I use it to remind myself that we’re on the same side.”  
“You shouldn’t,” he said and as she got up, he winced. She dropped the necklace in his lap.  
“See you around, Malfoy,” Siria said and left.

“He didn’t mean it,” Myrtle said while Siria climbed the stairs of her dorm. “Draco’s just hurting.”  
“Myrtle, I know, but he’s not the only one,” Siria said. “I’ll let him deal on his own for a bit, but I’m keeping an eye on him.”  
“How can I help?” Myrtle asked. They lingered outside the door of Siria’s dorm room.  
“Be there if he needs it and keep me posted about what he’s up to?” Siria asked. Myrtle nodded. “See you soon, Myrtle. Get some rest.” Myrtle giggled.  
“I don’t need sleep, silly,” and sunk through the stairs.

 

Professor McGonagall saved the sixth years for last when she handed out schedules at breakfast. She considered what students wanted to take and their O.W.L. results. Neville pleaded with Professor McGonagall to let him take Transfiguration because it was what his grandmother wanted. “She ought to be proud of the grandson she has,” Professor McGonagall told him. “Take Charms, Longbottom, and I will write to Augusta.” [B6, 174]. They covered his other options, filled his schedule, and he left.

She nodded over Hermione’s O.W.L. results. “Ms. Granger, I believe you wanted to continue everything?” Professor McGonagall asked. Hermione nodded.  
“Except for Care of Magical Creatures,” Hermione whispered.  
“Very well.” She tapped Hermione’s schedule.  
“I also wanted to take a few upper level electives,” Hermione said. “I believe Ancient Magic, Alchemy, Magic Theory, Domestic Magic, Finance, and Writing were approved for this year. I’d like to take them all, if they’ll fit.”  
“Due to the damage at the Ministry, Time Turners are not an option this year, Ms. Granger. Please manage your time wisely,” Professor McGonagall said and filled Hermione’s schedule. Hermione headed away.

“Ms. Potter-Black,” Professor McGonagall said and looked over Siria’s results. “I was pleased with your Transfiguration result.”  
“I was too,” Siria said with a smile. “Obviously, I’d like to continue it and my other subjects, except Astronomy, History, and Divination.” Professor McGonagall nodded, as she put them into Siria’s schedule. “As for new electives: Domestic Magic, Finance, and Writing with Hermione, but I also wanted to take Art.”  
“I would like to confirm you are aware there is limited magic involved in Art and Writing, and none in Finance,” Professor McGonagall said.  
“Sirius wants me to take Finance, Chloe recommended Art, and Remus said I should take Writing, so,” Siria shrugged.  
“And what would you like to take?” Professor McGonagall asked, without looking up from Siria’s schedule.  
“I mean, there isn’t exactly a class in ‘taking down Voldemort’, so I might as well take what’ll help when that’s over,” Siria said. A smile tugged at the corner of Professor McGonagall’s mouth. She nodded and gave Siria’s schedule a few taps of her wand.

Siria didn’t have a first period to hurry off to, so she waited with Ron while Professor McGonagall made his. Ron matched Siria’s schedule, though he didn’t sign up for Care of Magical Creatures. “We’ve got so much free time. Only have morning classes on Friday… maybe we should have skipped them,” he joked with a smile.  
“Hermione said all the free time we get is for homework,” Siria reminded him. He shrugged.  
“Can I share your Potion stuff until mine comes in?” Ron asked.  
“Yeah. I got extra supplies, so you’ll just need to get a book,” Siria said.  
“Maybe Slughorn will have some extra copies,” Ron said, as he grabbed another piece of bacon and got up. “Nothing ‘til Defense Against the Dark Arts, after break. Common room?”  
“Sounds good,” she nodded.

“Can’t believe you’re taking Care of Magical Creatures,” Ron tsked, as they left the Great Hall. “Do you want to get mauled that badly?”  
“I just want to limit the people I let down,” Siria said. She stretched her arm while they walked and hid her yawn behind it.  
“Maybe you ought to go back to bed,” Ron said. “I’m sure I can get someone to wake you before class.”  
“I’m fine,” Siria said. She lowered her head to hide another yawn.  
“Siria, it’s Snape first.”  
“Maybe just a short nap.”


	7. Snape Victorious

**Snape Victorious**   


The previous five decorators of The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom that Siria knew, all had better taste. Even Lockhart. Thick dark curtains were closed over the windows, which made the room about as dark as the dungeons. Tasteless portraits of people being tortured hung between the windows. There was a woman frozen in a scream of pain, a man that Siria hoped was Imperioed with that he was doing, and what was probably human before it was flattened like tenderized meat. [B6, 176

Despite being several floors up and a warm summer’s day, Hermione wore her Self-Heating gloves; she kept the argyle pair that Fred and George made, at Siria’s request, even though their new line of gloves had more features. Siria tried to keep her loathing inside, but it seeped out with each breath she saw mist the air. [B6, 176

Then there was the smell. It wasn’t until Asadal that she realized how different classrooms in the same school could be, even when there wasn’t something happening in them. Even tables could smell different, and in a good way. She remembered that, when Remus taught, there was something vaguely minty in the room, and Lockhart’s was a changing cologne. Snape’s room smelt cold, like a freezer.

No one spoke as they entered and filed in. More than half their year made it through, and, no matter how many times Hermione reminded her their year was small, it sank in again. Siria could name everyone. Hermione reached for her book, but Ron shook his head. Part of Siria thought it was foolish to hope that Snape would teach like Remus or Barty Crouch Jr., but she was like that sometimes.

Snape stalked through the class while his thick, black coat crept behind him; its hem skittered along the floor like an army of spiders. He glared them down through greasy curtains, darker than the ones he hung over the windows. A wiry smirk of victory on his pasty face.

“With how unstructured your learning has been in this subject,” Snape began, “I am surprised so many of you managed to pass your O.W.L.,” he looked to Siria. “There will not be so many to pass their N.E.W.T.”  
“So, you suck at teaching?” Siria thought. Snape’s dark eyes moved on, as he walked from the front, around the side.  
“The Dark Arts are ever changing,” Snape said with such affection in his voice, he could have been reading an ode. “They are agile, adaptive, and so you must be even more able to change than they are. If you cannot evolve,” he said as he circled the room, “then you will be devoured.” [B6, 177]

Back at the front of the class, Snape asked “Can anyone tell me the benefit of non-verbal casting?” He went over Hermione’s hand twice and looked like he’d rather eat his cloak than select her. “No one?” He asked. “A reflection on your lack of structured education on the subject, to be sure,” he said. Hermione lowered her hand. “The advantage of non-verbal casting is a moment of surprise. Only a skilled Occlumencer could extract the spell in proper time to respond.” [B6, 179]

He had them divide into pairs, their desks and chairs magically moved against the wall. Snape instructed them to have one student attempt to jinx or hex the other, non-verbally, while the other student attempted to shield themselves, also non-verbally. Hermione sent a silent jet of red at Siria, who bounced it off her Shield Charm, and toward the ceiling. Any other teacher would have given them at least ten points, if not more. Snape didn’t even acknowledge it, and scowled at anyone that dared to clap.

Hermione and Siria took turns blocking the other’s spells. After fifteen minutes, a few other members of Dumbledore’s Army had gotten it. Some people were red in the face, as they tried to mutter the spell or held their breath so they didn’t speak. Snape called their attention.

“Potter-Black,” he said and gestured to the space before him. Siria stepped up to it. She felt the “Don’t do it” from Hermione. If Snape was going to try and embarrass her, she was going to embarrass him. “You are to attempt to Block my spell, silently. If you should happen to succeed, try and silently attack me,” there was a curl of a smirk on his face. “You may you any spell you can think of,” he added. “Pay close attention,” he snapped at the class.

“Focus,” Siria told herself. She knew what she wanted to do. She knew what she would do. The sensation of fire, pulling from her wand. That moment of power.

An invisible force charged toward her. She sliced through the air with her wand and gestured with her other hand. Her hand flashed like magnesium, and Snape stumbled backward.

“Did you not hear me say we were doing Non-Verbal casting,” Snape asked , as he straightened up. Siria raised her head up. She rested her free hand along her wand.  
“Did you hear me say something, Pro-fes-sor? Because, if not, that would mean I met the requirements,” Siria said.  
“Do I need to remind you, Potter-Black, that you are at Hogwarts, where we speak English?” Snape asked.  
“Professor,” Siria said, “you gave me permission to use ‘any spell’ I could think of, and, as it’s no secret to the staff where I went over summer, Professor, one could very reasonably conclude that I would follow your instructions completely, and use one of those spells that I could think of. After all, Professor, I am very dedicated to my learning.”

“Twenty points,” Ron groaned as they left class. “And for what? Following directions?”  
“It was for her cheek, Ron,” Hermione said as they headed down for break. “Honestly, Siria, could you have fit in anymore snarky ‘Professor’s?” She shook her head and sighed.  
“Please,” Siria said, “I almost did. Hermione, he tried to embarrass me in front of the class, hated me because of my parents, bullies students, and he’s the worst.”  
“Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione said. Siria slung her arm around Hermione’s shoulder.  
“So I don’t trust either,” Siria whispered. Ron nodded. He didn’t need to hear to know, and he trusted Siria more than he did Dumbledore.  
“It is kind of fishy that Dumbledore lets Snape teach, when he obviously hates it,” Ron said, as he plopped down in an armchair in a nook.

“Well, maybe it’ll be different now that he’s teaching his actual passion,” Hermione said while she pulled a book from her bag and sat down. Siria leaned against the wall, facing the way of foot traffic.  
“How can you say that after that class?” Siria asked. “He threw a fit that I knocked him back, took away twenty points, then reduced Neville to tears.”  
“Neville didn’t cry,” Hermione said. “He just… he just teared up a little, like when you add eye drops.” Siria looked to Ron, who nodded at her. “And I don’t think he hates your mum, didn’t you say they went to a party together.” Siria gave a dramatic gag.  
“I said they were next to each other at what looked like a party,” Siria said. “If he didn’t hate her, then he’s got one heck a disgusting crush on her, and I half think that’s worse— she got married, remember? Had a baby, or something, with a guy who would never even think of being a Death Eater.”  
“The world isn’t divided into Good People and Death Eaters, Siria,” Hermione snapped and slammed her book shut, “Sirius said so himself and, since he’s the only one you’ll listen to, maybe you should go complain to him!”  
“Hermione,” Siria said in a level, though annoyed tone, as Hermione stuffed her book in her bag. “C’mon, I do listen to you… Hermione… HERMIONE!” Siria threw herself over an armchair as Hermione stormed off.

“You… aren’t you gonna go after her?” Ron asked. Siria grumbled into the chair. “She only going to be more mad that you didn’t follow her.”  
“I know…” Siria sighed, “but I’m allowed to be upset too. I do listen to her!”  
“I know you do.”  
“I really value her advice.”  
“I know.”  
“You and her are my best friends, and I love you two more than I do anyone else.”  
“I know, mate. We love you too.”  
“Ron,” Siria grumbled as she slid onto her feet and stretched her arms on the far arm of the chair. “I don’t want Snape to be ‘Good People’, not even ‘Morally Grey People’...” Ron just looked at Siria, who met his eye and sighed again. “I’m going,” she slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Art” was the most freeform subject ever. The large classroom was sorted into sections of paint, pottery, paper, and “cameras!” Siria said and swept up one of the old fashioned film cameras. She pretended to photograph Ron with it, but the professor entered.

Professor Zhijuan Murray was a short, older woman with close-cropped, lavender-grey hair. She wore large, pince-nez glasses that held on at the edge of her nose. Rather than robes, she wore a long, white pleated chiffon skirt with small pink flowers, and a soft blue blouse underneath an olive art smock.

“Welcome,” she told the class. “Most of the magic we do here, is a little different than the kind you are probably used to.” Her voice carried a light laugh in its friendly tone. “Today will just be some familiar magic, wands out, please, as we go over some cleaning spells before I set you free to the room.”

In Domestic Magic, the next morning, Professor Chaudhary greeted Siria when she entered. “I didn’t know you taught this class,” Siria said.  
“And here I thought you picked this class because I teach it,” he extended his hand to shake Ron’s then Neville’s. “It’s nice to see some young men looking to take care of themselves; you’d be surprised how few I tend to get.”  
“Really?” Siria asked. “Who doesn’t want to know how to cook and clean with the wave of a wand?”  
“My Gran said that some people’s families are too stubborn for it,” Neville said. Siria scanned the room, glaring only at Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe; Neville and Ron were two of five boys in a class of thirty, and she supposed “stubborn” was what some people would call it.

Professor Chaudhary introduced himself to the class, which got a small “Oh,” of realization from Hermione. He handed out a paper syllabus which covered how their year was broken up: cooking, cleaning, clothing, gardening, and security. When he asked if there were questions, Neville raised his hand. “Professor, why isn’t ‘Security’ part of Defense Against the Dark Arts?” he asked.  
“Well, Mr. Longbottom, that is a good question. The way that class is structured focuses on run-ins with dangerous situations out and about,” Professor Chaudhary said. “And while I do think there should be some overlap, since this is an elective, but the security part of this class focuses on securing your home.”

He took a long look over the class, and nodded. Professor Chaudhary leaned against his desk, with the syllabus loosely held in his hand. “The Security portion is usually the last part of the class taught, but, as you’ll see, it’s the first section this year,” he said. “With Voldemort— it’s okay to shudder at the name, but know our enemy— so publicly active, I expect a lot of you to be pulled from school. If you only learn one thing from this class, I hope it’s how to keep safe.”

A dark-skinned woman greeted Hermione with a smile when they walked into Finance. “Professor Chaudhary,” Hermione said, “I’ve finally met your husband.” Professor Chaudhary tilted her head slightly to the side and nodded.  
“Domestic Magic then? Mithra really has a talent around the house,” she said. Her voice was cool and soft, but carried like a wind. “I wonder if learning to cook while you learn Alchemy will be helpful. There’s a balance in both.” Her thick, dark hair was cropped in a pixie cut. She was tall and wore heels with her dark navy three-piece. Professor Chaudhary had a long, bronze witch’s robe, which she wore like a coat.

“I am Professor Rakhi Chaudhary, and welcome to Finance,” she said when class started. Professor R. Chaudhary wasted no time and dove into the class. She noted that additional copies of their book were available for in-library use, and they had two weeks before they need it. Paper packets of math problems were handed out, with what wasn’t completed in class to be homework.

Siria turned as she handed Neville the packets. Draco Malfoy was in the far back corner, almost her complete opposite seat. He made a point to not look at her, and she smiled as she turned back. Somehow, he would come around.

Jack Sloper caught Siria on her way to Transfiguration. “For you,” he gasped and held out a roll of parchment. Siria accepted it with a strained smile. She knew the thin, slanted writing too well.  
“Thanks,” Siria said. “See you at tryouts on Saturday?” He nodded. While Hermione, Ron, and Siria walked, she opened the letter, which said she was to be at his office at 8 P.M. on Saturday night. [B6, 181]

Transfiguration moved onto the Transfiguration of the self, in a mixed class smaller than Dumbledore’s Army. Even Hermione needed Professor McGonagall to repeat instructions. Siria wondered why she had learned to Transfigure buttons into shields instead of change herself.

Saturday brought Quidditch tryouts, which brought even more people than Siria anticipated. She squeezed her eyes shut as she looked over the crowd of people, half of them she recognized from other Houses. Siria tapped the bag on the ground in front of her with her foot and sighed. She pointed her wand at her throat and amplified her voice, as Mr. Bagman had for the Triwizard Tournament.

“Everyone that is not a Gryffindor, off the field,” Siria said. “Being a Gryffindor is a requirement to be on the Gryffindor team. Gryffindor’s with the intent to try out, please group yourselves into groups of seven, and await further instruction.” She took a long breath as several giggling boys and girls hurried off the field. Siria looked up to Hermione, who shook her head, very slightly, with an apologetic smile.

“Potter-Black,” someone called. Siria turned and stopped immediately, Cormac McLaggen was right on top of her. “Cormac McLaggen,” he said and shoved his hand at her, “From Slughorn’s compartment. I’m trying out for Keeper.”  
“Great,” Siria said, her voice still amplified. She pointed to the forming groups. McLaggen raised an eyebrow at her, as if to say she couldn’t expect him to tryout with the others. Siria drew a circle, in the air, with her finger, and pointed to the groups. She could deamplify her voice, but found a small bit of fun in his annoyed expression. Oh, she hoped he would fail epically.

“In your group of seven, two laps around the field interior, then weave through the goalposts, and come to center field,” Siria said. “Everyone who makes it back, proceeds to the next step.”  
“What’s the next step?” Colin asked, a school broomstick in his hand. She already felt bad, but knew she couldn’t.  
“The people who pass will see.”

Fifteen people succeeded. They were divided based on what they wanted to be, and no one wanted Seeker this year, for some reason. Seven Chaser tryouts, six Beater, and two Keeper, Cormac McLaggen and Ron. Siria opened the bag on the ground and pulled out mesh tops of red and yellow; she had to duplicate some to have enough.

“Prepare of chaos,” Siria said in her usual voice, as she tossed the tops out. “Red Versus yellow, gather around your Keeper.”  
“There aren’t enough Chasers,” Seamus said as he stood with Dean Thomas on McLaggen’s side.  
“Lucky for yellow they get the extra,” Siria said. She put Dean and Ginny on different teams. Part of her wanted to split Dean and Seamus, but she would for the next one. “We’ll play three goals, scramble teams, three goals, scramble teams again, and,” Siria looked at her watch, “probably break for lunch then return for individual tryouts.”  
“What?” McLaggen asked. “You want us the whole day?”  
“Practice will be for the whole day, so,” Siria dragged the “O”, “yeah— if you can’t commit a day here and there before there’s homework, how are you going to do it when we’re drowning in work?”

McLaggen stepped up to her and glared. Siria glared back at him. His breath made her stomach twist. There was absolutely a magic cure for halitosis, even a case that bad. She was barely taller than him, but it seemed to be enough to get him to step back and away, or he remembered how many eyes were on him and that most of them would take her side.

“Practice is going to be one Saturday a month and as many practices as we can fit into the weeks proper,” Siria said. “I’ve already worked it out with the other Captains that it’ll be every other day the week we have a match. If you can’t put in the time, I’m not going to fault you, but this is the time to leave.”

One of the girls in yellow gripped the mesh shirt. She nodded and took it off. “Sorry,” she muttered as she held it out to Siria.  
“Don’t be sorry,” Siria said. “Thank you for letting us know. Good luck in your classes,” and Siria added on a smile.

It was a long day. Most of the approved team and disappointed tryouts headed into shower, but Siria was still out when the Slytherin Captain came onto the field with his team. “We’re leaving!” Siria called, as she swept her bag off the ground. McLaggen yanked her bag so hard, Siria hit the ground.  
“We’re not leaving until I go again!” He shouted over Siria’s “Excuse you!” Siria got to her feet and he got his face right in front of her’s.  
“I’m going again,” he said.  
“No. You’re done— you could be the ONLY Gryffindor left, and I’d sooner play without a Keeper,” she told him. Siria ripped a yellow NCR off her clipboard and stuffed it against him. “You yell too much, think you’re the boss, can’t stand when you don’t get your way, don’t listen to instructions— are you seriously going to hit me?” Siria asked as he raised his fist. She turned her head and tapped her cheek.  
“I bleeding dare you, see what happens,” Siria growled through clenched teeth.

“Get back,” the Slytherin Captain said, his wand out and pointed at McLaggen, who raised his arms and took a step away. McLaggen looked to the Captain, sizing him up. Hermione lit the tip of her wand, which McLaggen caught, and backed up. He picked his broom up and stomped off the field. 

 

“Good eye, telling him ‘no’, but maybe don’t encourage he hit you next time,” the Captain said. “Miran Shacklebolt,” he said and extended his hand, “I wasn’t surprised by your letter, but... impressed?” Siria shook his hand.  
“Shacklebolt like Kingsley?” Siria asked. He nodded.  
“Mom’s cousin’s son or something, good Auror,” Miran said. “I believe the field is ours now.” Siria nodded and picked her bag back up. She felt Malfoy’s eyes from the group,  
“Thank you, for the hand,” Siria chuckled, pulled on a smile. “You might have just saved me.”  
“Madam Pomfrey would have fixed you, I’m more worried about what Granger would have done to him,” Miran said. An actual smile came over her.  
“Smart,” Siria noted. “See you around, Miran?”  
“Siria,” he nodded. She focused on the direction she wanted, not Malfoy.

“Don’t think about why it’s wrong,” Siria told herself. “Think about the end. Think about the goal. You can always become real again once it’s over… Once you finish it, then you can be real again.” It was the hope she tried to promise herself. It was also the question that haunted her just less than “Will it succeed?” which was only less of a worry than “Are they okay?”


	8. The Half-Blood Prince

**The Half-Blood Prince**   


Tired and worn from tryouts, homework, and the day, Siria made her way to Dumbledore’s office. They exchanged the usual greetings as she entered. She greeted Fawkes, Phineas Nigellus, and took a seat.

“You’ve been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these lessons,” Dumbledore said.  
“As much as I do all my lessons, Headmaster,” Siria replied. The nice thing about Dumbledore was that there was no point in smiling. He knew she did not trust him. She knew he plotted to use her, somehow. Neither knew the other’s plan and it seemed like neither would.  
“In these lessons, I will let you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, and some important information, which led to that,” he explained.

“This,” Siria thought, “is why there is no ‘How to Defeat Evil’ guide.” This was always how it would be, wouldn’t it? How did the Great Evil come to be, why did the Great Evil do it, what was It? While the past may answer some questions, and Voldemort’s choices would be the tools of his destruction, Siria already had the answers she needed.

Dumbledore pulled out the pensive, and they entered the memories Bob Ogden, an employee in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The memory was of a hot summer day, and started at Bob Ogden making his way in poorly put together Muggle clothes— they really owed Moony & Padfoot for sensible outfits— including a striped one-piece bathing costume. They followed him to a sign that directed to Great Hangleton and Little Hangleton the continued on, away from the path to the town, down a lane, to a small dirt track, and into unkept flora around a falling to pieces house. [B6, 199-201]

Siria had the slightest flash in her mind of the house in Godric’s Hollow, where her parents died. “Are we about to find a body?” Siria wanted to ask, but couldn’t find her voice. Moss grew under the roof, which was missing tiles. Dark grime filled in the mortar, which even Aunt Petunia would have trouble cleaning. Its windows were too dirty to see through, as if they were caked in layers of dusty costume makeup and somehow hard water. One such window was open, to let out smoke and steam from someone cooking. [B6, 201]

The dirtiest person Siria ever saw dropped, in rags, from a tree, and startled Bob Ogden back. “You’re not welcome,” they hissed. If this hadn’t been a memory, Siria may have summoned some water just to hose him down, though it would not have fixed his missing teeth, it may have given her a hair color to go off of. Bob Ogden tried to introduce himself, but the man brandished a bloody knife and repeated “You’re not welcome.” Siria caught it. [B6, 201-202]

“Parseltongue,” Siria said and looked to Dumbledore, who nodded as Bob Ogden tried to say he didn’t understand. “Are we at Voldemort’s childhood home?” Siria asked. There wasn’t a sign of the young Voldemort, from the diary, in the man before them. “Sir, if you understand Parseltongue then wouldn’t it be easier to just tell me what’s in these memories?”  
“It may, but then how would you draw your own conclusions?” Dumbledore asked as Ogden was attacked by the man with the knife.  
“Right now my hypothesis is that these memories won’t help with that I’m planning,” Siria said while an older, just as dirty, person came out of the house.  
“Perhaps you could share your plan, and I would be able to focus on memories that would better suit you,” Dumbledore said.  
“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” Siria said while they followed Bob Ogden and Mr. Gaunt into the house. [B6, 202]

In the Gaunt’s House, Siria, who had just resolved to look at everything as critically and detached as she could, felt bad. A woman, barely older than Siria, in what looked like sewn together old rags, stood as invisible as she could make herself in the kitchen. The woman looked like she’d only heard of the sun, and she managed to keep most of the dirt off her. She looked miserable. Siria rubbed her arm absently, as Gaunt introduced her as Merope. [B6, 205]

Bob Ogden started to explain why he came, when Merope dropped a pot. Siria clenched her fists as Gaunt screamed at Merope to pick up a pot she dropped with her wand, then get louder as she broke it. Ogden repaired it and handed it to her, then explained that he was there because Morfin, the person with the knife, used magic on a Muggle in town. [B6, 205-206]

Gaunt got increasingly defensive and aggressive as Ogden explained that Morfin was summoned to the Ministry. As Gaunt was pureblood, he believed his family above such things as laws, and brandished a ring in Ogden’s face. This didn’t change Ogden and the Ministry’s stance, nor did the locket around Merope’s neck. [B6, 207]

“That locket!” Siria gasped and stepped back. The locket hadn’t hissed though, hadn’t called her. “It wouldn’t,” she told herself. This was before it was a Horcrux, before Voldemort.

The conversation continued to go nowhere, as they too often do when people on completely different sides of something pretend to debate, when they cannot be persuaded. It wasn’t until a horse came by, with a man and woman a little older than Merope, riding that the conversation shifted. That man was Tom Riddle. [B6, 209]

Siria eyed Merope, who blushed at Tom’s voice, and felt a little sick. She covered her mouth. There wasn’t any doubt now. Merope got Tom Riddle to knock her up, and had Voldemort. “Why?” Siria wondered.

Morfin knew Merope fancied Tom Riddle, and, in Parseltongue told her “‘Darling’ he called her, so he wouldn’t have you anyway,” which did not go well with their father. Gaunt tried to strangle Merope, but was stopped by Ogden, who quickly ran for his life. Dumbledore and Siria were returned to the Headmaster’s office. [B6, 211]

“I take it Gaunt didn’t kill Merope,” Siria said, almost bitterly as she sat down.  
“She survived,” Dumbledore said while he cleaned up around the pensive. He explained the Ogden returned with more of the Ministry, that Morfin and Marvolo Gaunt went to Azkaban. Dumbledore explained that Merope was finally free and no doubt used the time to release her abilities, and that he suspected she used a love potion, which she may have found more romantic than alternatives. Marvolo did not live long enough to see Morfin’s return. Dumbledore added that Merope may have stopped feeding Tom Riddle the love potion out of hope that he would have fallen in love with her. [B6, 213-214]

As Siria went to leave, she saw the ring— Marvolo’s ring— on Dumbledore’s side table. She smiled at the ugly gold ring with the cracked black stone. “Dumbledore will get the ring, it sounds like he always does,” Harry Potter told her. She placed her hand on the table with the ring, careful not to touch it, even though it didn’t call her in anyway.

The Locket: destroyed in her first year, in this very office. The Diary: in the Chamber of Secrets. The Ring: sometime over summer, she suspected. The Cup, the diadiem, Nagini and herself were still left. She needed to find them before Dumbledore did, or before Voldemort realized what she was up to.

 

“Yes, Ms. Potter-Black?” Dumbledore asked. Siria shook her head.  
“Just planning my victory lap and wondering if you’ll be around to see it,” Siria said. “See you’re still wearing gloves, an odd choice to make so late in life, unless you’re hiding complications with… a curse?” Dumbledore gave nothing away, as he returned her haughty smile with fake-friendly one.  
“Full of brilliant ideas, as usual,” Dumbledore said. “Good night, Siria.”  
“Good night, sir.” [B6, 216]

“Oh, dear Merlin,” Siria breathed as she stepped into the hallway of the Augusta Dungeon. She closed the portrait of the passage her and Ron took. Siria opened her pocket mirror, which reflected a note, in Hermione’s writing, that just said:  
Stay Away.

“What are we supposed to do?” Ron asked, as Siria closed the mirror. “Wait here until there’s a different message?”  
“I… if you want to go ahead… it’s probably just for me to ‘stay away’,” Siria muttered. “Sorry.”  
“Why don’t we head to the Room,” Ron suggested, “I actually have something I want your help on.” He started on the path back. “Remember how my House? Dorm? The place I was Sorted into at Asadal, we used got together with the other years for Sports Day? Well, I was thinking, and it might be a bad idea, so let me know, but I was thinking that it could be nice to do that as a House. An organized, once a month or so, House day. Maybe we book the Quidditch field and help people fly or just mess around, but doing games, like before our O.W.L.s… it’s just a thought.”  
“It’s brilliant!” Siria told him. “What do you need?”

Monday morning Fay Dunbar and Siria brought back their morning tradition of running in silence. They agreed to run Monday through Wednesday, and Friday, so Fay could sleep in after Astronomy. They parted, and Siria spent the morning with Ron, until they met Hermione during break and headed to Potions.

Slughorn shook Siria’s hand and clapped her on the back when she entered. Siria scanned over the various Potions in the room. She sat down near a golden one. It smelt amazing, like something from Asadal, Chloe’s lunch spot, cinnamon, and had a hint of citrus. Hermione blushed as she looked at the Potion, then Ron.  
“What?” Siria mouthed. Hermione gave her a look that read  
“Don’t ask me!” as she mouthed back “nothing.”  
“What’s this one?” Ron asked and nodded to it. “Smells amazing, like… those cinnamon rolls an’,” he paused, but looked pleased.

Ernie MacMillan, from Hufflepuff joined them. The Slytherins sat together, as did the Ravenclaws. The class was smaller than she imagined. “Just you?” Siria asked. He shrugged.  
“A few others had the grades, but Snape really soured the subject,” MacMillan said. “Still, can’t give up on Defense Against the Dark Arts, good show, by the way.”

Ron got up to ask Slughorn for a book. He made a good show of smile, as he brought the graffitied mess back to the table. “Could I share yours?” Ron asked Siria, “just until mine comes,” he handed her the copy. The previous owner managed to write everywhere, between the lines, crossed out some instructions, and… there was something almost familiar about the sharp scrawl, like she’d known its’ cousin.  
“You can just use mine,” Siria said and handed Ron hers. “You know how much I like experimenting. I’m interested in seeing,” she flipped to the front, then flipped through as she checked the book for a name. Siria sniggered. “Seeing if the ‘Half-Blood Prince’ was any good.” [B6, 193]  
“You’re not,” Hermione hissed and reached for the book. Siria pulled it closer and shook her head.  
“[This is the safest place to experiment— if it’s brilliant, Slughorn loves me and if it’s terrible, he thinks I’m a loveable clutz. Either way, he’ll like me more. We both know what That Person wants,]” Siria didn’t like using Korean this way, so others wouldn’t know, but it was safer. People wouldn’t know how much she faked it.

Hermione chewed over the thought. She crossed her arms. “[I think your natural talent in the subject would be worth more than this ‘Prince’s’. It’s your life,]” Hermione said.  
“You really did study overseas then,” MacMillan said. “Where?” But Slughorn called for attention to start class.

He asked about each of the Potions in turn. Hermione answered each, with eagerness. She brewed some of them: Polyjuice Potion in their second year and the Potion on Slughorn’s desk that he didn’t ask about. Ron and Siria blushed at the explanation of the golden one they were near, Amortentia which “smells differently to each of us, according to what attracts us…”. Slughorn asked if Hermione was related to a famous Potionier named Granger, which earned a snigger from Nott and a very short one from Malfoy. [B6, 185]

“I’m Muggleborn, sir,” Hermione said (B6, 185). Siria put her hand on the table, beside Hermione’s. Hermione slid her hand to sit along Siria’s.  
“No shame in that, my dear,” Slughorn said. Siria knew he didn’t miss their hands touching. “One of my best students, Lily Evans, was a Muggleborn. She was one of the brightest minds in her year.”  
“Granger’s THE brightest of our year,” Siria said with a smirk. Hermione slapped Siria’s hand, but it only made Siria smile more.

“Take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger,” Slughorn said and Siria wondered if he wasn’t as bad as she built him up to be. “Now, Amortentia doesn’t really create ove, of course, but it will cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room—” Slughorn clicked is his tongue in an almost sorry way at the smirks on Nott and Malfoy’s faces (B6, 186). “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love…”(B6, 186)

Slughorn gave them the task of brewing as much of Draught of Living Death as they could in the period. Ernie pointed out that Slughorn didn’t ask about the cauldron on his desk, which Slughorn gave an overly cheery “Oh” for and explained it was liquid luck, and the winner would receive enough for a day. He let Hermione explain the Potion, which she’d already brewed, then Slughorn noted that it wasn’t to be used for competitions, tests, sports, and a few other things. The winner would be trusted to use it on a perfectly normal day. Siria wasn’t worried, until she saw the look on Malfoy’s face— that hunger she’d grown too familiar with. Whatever he wanted it for… she’d make him ask her. [B6, 187-189]

Siria threw her notes and the Half-Blood Prince’s copy open. There were very slight adjustments between them in Cassius’s notes. Siria followed his. The Half-Blood Prince would have other days. She crushed the sopophorous bean, threw in a clockwise turn where it said, crushed her dried hellebore petals into a fine powder, and knew she was almost out of time. [B6, 190-191]

“Siria, how are you doing that?” Hermione asked. Her bushy hair frizzed from the heat and vapor that blew from her cauldron like a soft wind. Siria glanced around, she couldn’t see Malfoy’s cauldron, but he didn’t have the wisps hers was generating, so she was closer than him.  
“I’ve got you,” Siria said, as she walked behind Hermione, to pull her hair up. “Too thick for a bun,” she told her and stretched the scrunchy while she pulled Hermione’s thick, bushy hair through for a ponytail.  
“I meant the Potion,” Hermione said. She rubbed her forehead with her forearm, her arms covered in some of the little sopophorous juice she got from cutting the bean.  
“Cassius,” Siria said matter-of-factly. “Malfoy wants that Liquid Luck, so I want it more.”  
“[Maybe it’s to make up with you,]” Hermione suggested as Siria returned to her cauldron and shrugged. She took up the next step.

Purple steam rose from Hermione’s cauldron while pale pink vapor rose from Siria’s. Slughorn cleared the Slytherins first. Siria cleaned up her things, so Cassius’s notes would be tucked away. She pushed her copy of Advanced Potion-Making toward Ron and put his used one in her bag as Slughorn finished with the Ravenclaw students and looked at Ernie’s. [B6, 191]

Slughorn looked apologetically to Ernie, then took a step back from Ron’s. “My,” Slughorn said at Hermione’s, “you did a fine job, though it is a very complicated Potion.” Hermione did not rise up or look boastful. She just looked at Siria and the vapor as she said “Thank you.”

Finally, Slughorn reached Siria’s cauldron. She wondered the last time she had a smile like his. It couldn’t be as far back as she thought, in the park with Snuffles and a new book, when her arm was finally free. There was a moment sooner, somewhere.

“The clear winner!” Slughorn announced. “Excellent, excellent Siria! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was!” (B6, 191). Slughorn gave Siria the small bottle of Felix Felicis, which she shook in line of sight of Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini’s angered expressions, before she pocketed it. [B6, 191]

“You’re sharing Cassius’s notes,” Hermione said as they sat for lunch. Siria smirked while she made some room on the table.  
“You’ll enjoy this,” Siria said. She pulled out Cassius’s notes and the Half-Blood Prince’s book and picked the Potion they did for class. “Look at the similarities between the directions— Snape stole them from this ‘Half-Blood Prince’ and I might be able to find out who they are.” Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron got himself a plate of food.  
“What makes you think you know them?” Hermione asked.  
“The way they right their ‘S’, don’t they look familiar?” Siria pushed it closer to Hermione, who clicked her tongue.  
“People’s handwriting changes as they get older,” Hermione noted. “Just look at my notes from first year, they don’t look anything like they do now.”  
“Both tiny,” Ron said.  
“And you write the ‘H’ in your name the same, well, almost; you basically cleaned it up,” Siria added and she looked closer at a few other Potions in the book to the notes.

“He’s so fired. This has gotta be plagiarism,” Siria said while she compared the barely changed directions.  
“Siria, plagiarism isn’t as big a deal in the greater Magical Community— it happens so often, I mean, there are rumors that even Dumbledore plagiarized some of the uses of Dragon’s Blood,” Hermione said while she pulled some salad onto her plate. “It’s one thing for a student to do it, but Snape never said the directions were his, he just said to follow the ones on the board. Besides,” she shrugged.  
“Okay, but they have to say it was from someone,” Siria said. “You can’t just take something from someone and be like ‘this is mine now’ because you added some stickers to it.”  
“It’s not like the Muggle world, Siria,” Hermione said. “If anything you’ll get him an award for making the directions more accurate and sharing the knowledge.”

Siria took a roll and an apple from the table, as she stuffed the book and Cassius’s notes back into her bag. “Don’t be like this,” Hermione said, but Siria rose up. “Siria, I’m just trying to save you time. You’ll just be frustrated when Snape gets—”  
“See you later,” Siria said. “One of us happens to have Care of Magical Creatures.”  
“In an hour! Siria,” Hermione called after her.

“Potter-Black!” Vijaya Ayers called from the Slytherin table, as Siria walked by.  
“I’ll talk to you later, Ayers,” Siria said with a wave. She missed the awe of the girls around Ayers.  
“Told you I know her,” Ayers told them with a confident smirk.

“Yer early,” Hagrid told Siria, as she made her way across the grounds and toward his cabin. “No Ron or Hermione?”  
“Hermione’s too busy,” Siria said. She knelt down on the porch to pet Fang. “Ron’s working on other things, from Asadal,” it wasn’t completely untrue.  
“At least yer here,” Hagrid said with a smile. “Got somethin’ real special planned. Small class this year, sixth an’ seventh together, but I don’ mind. Yer all gonna like this.” Siria rubbed under Fang’s chin and nodded.  
“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be great,” she said with a pulled on smile. Hagrid chuckled at her. She pulled the apple from her bag and ate it absently while she pet Fang and waited for the others to arrive.

Potions was a smaller class, but also limited to her year. Twenty or so people came down from the Castle, and Siria could name most of them: Fay and Neville from her House and year; Mandy Brocklehurst and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw; Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and— always making her stomach turn a bit— Lily Moon, from Hufflepuff.

Siria was a little surprised with the Slytherins from her year: Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, and, for whatever reason, Draco Malfoy and Blaize Zabini. The older students were Katie Bell, Anita Marsh, their friend Lorraine in Hufflepuff. and Siria believed their other friend’s name was Benton.

Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe may as well have been glued to the hip. They were with two older Ravenclaw boys Siria didn’t know. There were two Slytherin seventh years, a girl with dark brown hair and darker skin, and “Miran,” Siria greeted with a smile.  
“Siria,” he nodded and approached. “Again, can’t say I’m surprised.”  
“But impressed?” Siria said and he smirked.   
“Though, from what I hear—” he started, but Siria didn’t get to hear what he did. Hagrid coughed, very loudly, to get everyone’s attention.

“‘S that time,” Hagrid announced, even though there were a few minutes. “Siria, why don’ cha give me a hand,” Hagrid said. He used a massive hand, to usher Siria onto her feet. “This way,” he told them. Siria held her breath, as she pulled on a smile.  
“‘Course, dad— Hagrid,” she muttered through clenched teeth. He led them just past the garden, where there were some crates, nailed shut.  
“If yer wouldn’ mind a little magic,” Hagrid said. Siria nodded and held out her hand.  
“How many do you want open?”  
“Just one, fer now. Just wait ‘til ya see ‘em.”

She tapped the first nail with her knuckle, “[Out]” and the nail rose up. Siria continued around the crate, pocketed the nails, and cracked the lid. Alice and Cassius were fine; they’re skilled in magic, adapted to technology, knowledgeable about magic creatures, and clever. They had to be more than fine. It was like Ron said, they found the Channel, and were just having complications, but they could solve with it. Voldemort was going down in a way that would show other Dark Wizards—

Hagrid chuckled while he pulled Siria away from the crate. She blinked. “What just happened?” Siria asked as she felt her senses return to her.  
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Hagrid said, “They don’ mean no harm.”   
“What are they?” Siria asked. She stepped back, toward Neville, Fay, and the other students.  
“Yer project,” Hagrid said proudly as he picked one out of the crate. “Each a yer will ‘ave one yer got ter look afta for the term.” He held out what looked to be a small orb of changing light. It was about the size of a golf ball and seemed to shiver. “They like bein’ warm,” he said with a chuckle.

Everyone received a small, lined carrying pouch and glowing light. Their only homework was a research journal on their creature, which included figuring out its care, habits, diet, and name. Each class would start with a check-in before they meet a new creature. She remembered Cedric telling her that his seventh year project was Blast-Ended Skert care and felt a little worried, but also that maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad.


	9. The Good News

**The Good News**   


It was too late for this. They were only a few weeks in and drowning in homework. All their classes used nonverbal spells. So far, the only thing she knew was that Malfoy spent a lot of time in the Room of Requirement, while Crabbe and Goyle stood watch outside, but none of her snakes were fast enough to get in. The Minister hadn’t written and agreed to Siria’s terms, even though the Daily Prophet reported Umbridge was on suspension with pay, “pending an investigation into her time as High Inquisitor”. Hagrid’s massive spider, Aragog, was sick and dying in the forbidden forest. Siria still had no idea what the glowing ball ate, only that it seemed to still be alive, and even if it was only six-thirty in the morning, it was too late for this. [B6, 230]

Fay and Siria returned from their morning run, to find Hermione and Lavender fighting. “I’m just saying,” Lavender shouted, “that if you liked him you need to ask him out before someone else does!”  
“If you like him, ask him out! I don’t care,” Hermione said. She crossed her arms. Fay looked to Siria and put her arms in the air.  
“What’s going on?” Siria asked.  
“Lavender wants to ask Ron out,” Parvati said.  
“What?” Siria asked and her attention snapped to Lavender, who blushed.  
“I mean, don’t act so surprised,” Lavender said. “I wished him luck for tryouts, and I cheered for him, and,” a growing blush covered her face as she looked down. “He’s cute…”

“Okay,” Siria said and nodded. “That is… fair. Um. You can both like Ron—”  
“I don’t!” Hermione snapped. Siria raised up her hands as she leaned against the door. This wasn’t exactly the place for Siria to say “and you Confunded Cormac McLaggen because it was funny?” [B6, 232]  
“If,” Siria began, “if two of us were to like the same person, which may not be what’s happening now, perhaps we should make some sort of agreement on the boundaries, like ‘no making out in the common room’ or … I don’t know.”  
“Limiting couple-talk to when the other is away?” Parvati suggested.  
“Keeping other people out of it,” Fay added.  
“You’re still seeing Boot and we haven’t heard a word,” Lavender said. “That’s hardly fair— I want to be able to tell you all about all the wonderful things. We’ve already banned Divination in the dorm room, why can’t we talk about boys— and girls— the people we like!”

“I don’t care who anyone likes,” Hermione said, her head raised up, “it’s none of my business.”  
“Hermione, I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but stop being so stubborn,” Siria said. “I love you—”  
“I have Herald work to do, Viktor arranged to come to Hogwarts, and I need to meet him,” she said while she walked to the door. Siria put her full weight on it, while Hermione tugged. “Siria.”  
“Hermione.”  
“Anyone can date Ron, I don’t like him that way.”

“Because it’s you, I’ll tell you that you’re allowed to be angry if someone dates him, and I’ll tell you that your feelings are valid, because they will be, and only because it’s you, I won’t tell you that it’s your fault you’re mad,” Siria said. Hermione kept her hand on the door and her eyes on the knob. Siria sighed, and stepped away. Hermione left.

“So,” Lavender said. “I was only asking to be nice. She doesn’t own him just because she liked him longer. If he says ‘yes’ to me then he’s my boyfriend.”  
“Yeah,” Siria said. “If he agrees, I suppose he would be.”  
“Is she really meeting Viktor Krum?” Parvati asked. Siria sighed and nodded.  
“It’s for the Herald,” Siria said. “There’s nothing happening there,” Siria added while she changed into her clothes for the day.

The Hogwarts Herald was even more critical of the Ministry than Siria was. Hermione took every opportunity to nitpick new policies, the flaws in Ministry suggestions and protocols, and seemed to tear apart every department except for the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Her only issue with Mr. Weasley’s department was how understaffed it was. “[...] which further shows the new Minister’s great ambitions, and lack of understanding for department requirements,” as Hermione wrote in one article.

Despite the obvious Anti-Ministry stance, or maybe because of it, the Herald was larger than ever. If nothing else, people wrote in more. Hermione, at the suggestion of Luna Lovegood, added an entire page to each paper “The Good News” she called it. Anyone could write in with any news remotely positive. They already received wedding and engagement announcements, healthy children born announcements, parents sharing stories of their children doing cute things, charming accidental magic incidents, a few students even wrote in to say they earned points for their House, and Hermione prepared most of those for the next issue. “Even the smallest bit of joy could help someone,” Hermione said. She reduced it to every other week, with regular updates to the website. Hermione’s main focus was Lumos, which she sent out weekly.

Part of Siria worried that the first issue of The Hogwarts Herald was why the Minister hadn’t reached out. The rest of her worried it was because of how their meeting went. She tried to remind herself that she’d barely been in school a month. None of the worry ever stayed long, but she supposed it was just because there was too much on her mind.

“[I have literally never seen or heard of one of those in my life,]” Ha-joon told Siria over their video call, as she reached out to get some answers about the glowball. “[You haven’t figured anything out about it?]”  
“[Obviously],” Siria said. “[I still don’t know what it eats. It seems to like me now. Sometimes it will climb on me and just sit on my hand.]”  
“[You still haven’t named it?]” He asked.  
“[I know you said to name it after something or someone I love, so I get attached to it. I just don’t know what to name it that wouldn’t be weird,]” Siria explained. He nodded.  
“[I’ve taken some screen shots and will ask around. Thank you for the samples, by the way. I am so close to the solution. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I feel it,]” he said.  
“[Lucky you. Without Alice and Cassius, I can’t fill in the seals, so I’m just trying to figure out what Ravenclaw’s diadem looks like, and where Hufflepuff’s Cup is],” she said.  
“[Have you tried the Ravenclaw common room? You saw the Cup in Hufflepuff’s, didn’t you?]” He asked.  
“Yes!” Siria said. “[There’s a statue in their common room! You’re a genius,]” she said while she put the glowball into its pouch and put her other things away. “[I’ve got to go, but I know what to do].” They said their goodbyes and Siria pulled on her Invisibility Cloak while she ran to the Ravenclaw common room.

It was late enough that, after she answered the riddle, no one was up. That was a good thing about the time difference, no one was around to hear their calls or see the outcome. Siria took a few pictures of the statue with her phone. It looked like a fancy tiara, but she didn’t recognize it beyond that.

October brought more homework, note of the first Hogsmeade trip, and an invitation from Slughorn. Siria had been lucky enough that Slughorn’s gatherings tended to overlap with Quidditch practice, Dumbledore’s Army, or a meeting for the Herald.

Siria cut through the seventh floor corridor, by Barnabas the Barmy, with Hermione. They crashed into a Slytherin first year and Draco Malfoy. The girl dropped a set of heavy bronze scales, which Hermione repaired. Malfoy dusted himself off and ignored Siria’s outstretched hand.

“Look where you’re going, Potter-Black,” Malfoy snapped while he rose to his feet, “Granger.”  
“Matthews, is he bullying you?” Siria asked the first year. The girl froze and looked from Siria to Malfoy.  
“Mind your own business,” Malfoy said and reached to put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Siria knocked his arm away.  
“Matthews is my business,” Siria said. Matthews came to each Dumbledore’s Army meeting with the Ayers twins. She never said much, but seemed happy enough to be there.

“I’m fine,” Matthews said at the floor. She clutched the scales tighter.  
“Is he making you carry his scales?” Hermione asked. “That’s low, Malfoy, even for you. We’re sixth years now. Don’t you have anything better to do than bully first years.”  
“Of course that’s what you’d think,” Malfoy sneered. “I don’t need to explain myself to you— get lost,” Malfoy said and knocked Siria with his shoulder as he walked between them.

“What are they even doing up here?” Hermione asked while they continued toward the common room.  
“Room of Requirement,” Siria said. She knelt down, beside where the door would appear, and gestured with her wand. A snake came into focus, which Siria swept up. “Have you gotten in?” Siria asked.  
“Yesss,” the snake hissed. “It’sss full of ssstuff. Piless of thingsss.”  
“Hermione, can you think of what Malfoy wants with a room of junk?” Siria asked. She looked back to the snake “It is junk, right?” The snake nodded.  
“Lotsss of different thingsss. He’sss working on sssomething broken,” the snake said. Siria put the snake around her neck, like a necklace as they entered the common room and headed for their dorm.

“I’m worried about Matthews,” Hermione said while they entered their dorm. “She’s so soft spoken.”  
“We can ask her about it on Sunday,” Siria said while she changed her clothes. “I’m more concerned what Malfoy is fixing in the Room.”  
“A door boxxx” the snake said.  
“A door box?” Siria repeated while she pulled on a pair of black stockings.  
“A cabinet maybe? Why would Malfoy be fixing a cabinet in the Room of Requirement…” Hermione wondered aloud, as she pulled on a day dress.  
“Private, lots of space, can get whatever he needs,” Siria listed and put her jacket back on.  
“Are you wearing the snake to the party?” Hermione asked.  
“Hm? Oh, right,” Siria said and opened the drawer of her bedside table, which was full of glowing stones. She put the snake in and closed it. “I don’t know when I’m going to have the time to collect them all, but we know what Malfoy’s up to, a little.”

Ron caught them on their way back through the common room. “You, er, look nice,” Ron told Hermione. “I— Siria, could I,” and he nodded to the corner.  
“See you there,” Hermione said. She rolled her eyes and headed down.  
“So, um, Lavender asked me out,” Ron said. “To Hogsmeade and, since we normally go together, I just figured I’d ask…”  
“Ron,” Siria leaned close to his ear, “if you go out with Lavender, you’ll have only yourself to be mad with when Hermione dates Krum again.”  
“She’s not seeing him,” Ron said. “And it’s not like I like her anyway— I just wanted you to know we couldn’t go around together,” he said a little louder than he meant to.  
“Right,” Siria nodded. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I wonder, mate, what would happen if you asked Hermione out instead,” she shrugged. “Suppose we’ll never know. Since you don’t like her, mind if I ask her out?”  
“You— you said— you said that it wasn’t like that with her,” Ron said. Siria gave a look, like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  
“Thought you liked her,” Siria said. “I wouldn’t make a move on the person my best mate likes. Since you don’t like her though—”  
“I do!” Ron shouted. Some extra eyes joined the conversation.  
“Then you should get on it,” Siria said.

Slughorn’s gathering went long. It was like a group therapy session if, instead of talking about problems, people boasted about why their family was great or how great they were. Most of them were excited for the opportunity. The exceptions weren’t surprising: Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione. It did interest Siria how skillfully Miran passed himself over. Most of the introductions went on for minutes. “Miran Shacklebolt, relative of the Auror guarding the Muggle Minister, and the current Slytherin Quidditch Captain,” he threw Siria a smile.

“And a young lady who needs no introduction, but it is also so good to hear” Slughorn said. He sat Siria beside him and started around the room, opposite her. She pulled out a chuckle.  
“Thank you, professor Slughorn,” Siria said. “I’m Siria Potter-Black,” she waved, “my father owns a clothing line that’s doing quite well and I’ve recently submitted a Cut Sealing Solution, with the help of our dear Professor,” she placed her hand on Slughorn’s arm and he chuckled to himself, “to St. Mungo’s. It might not amount to much, but if it could help anyone, I think that would be really great.” Slughorn patted her hand.  
“Always so modest,” Slughorn said. “All I did was point you to the right book.”  
“Nonsense, professor, I couldn’t’ve submitted it without your encouragement,” Siria said. Dumbledore wanted her close to Slughorn, she wasn’t sure how much closer she could get.

Siria hung back for a moment, after the gathering. “Now, I know we aren’t supposed to give professors gifts,” Siria said with a small smile, “but I am just the messenger,” she pulled a container of sugared pineapple from her bag. “My father sends his thanks for taking such good care of me.”  
“Sirius is quite generous,” Slughorn said as he accepted the package. “Of course, I am so pleased to have you. Your work in Potions,” he chuckled, “so far beyond the others. I’d put you in with the seventh years, if I could.”  
“Well, I have that to look forward to next year,” Siria smiled. “Have a great night.”  
“You as well, my dear!”

“Quite the—” Siria rounded on the voice, whipped her wand out from her jacket and shoved them into the wall.  
“Oh!” Siria gasped. She lowered her wand as she stepped back and put a hand over her heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, I could have hexed you.”  
“Noted,” Miran coughed and cleared his throat. “Care for a stroll?” Siria looked at her watch. “I didn’t expect you to worry about the curfew.”  
“I don’t,” she said and held out her hand. “I was worried for you, Mr. Seventh-Year.”

Miran said little while they walked further from the Slytherin dorms. He talked about the weather, which was cute, and combed his hair with his fingers a few times. It made her hate herself a little. She did like him. Miran was handsome, brilliant, and so very sly. His voice was smooth and hit her like butter on a hot pan. Her intentions weren’t “pure” though, and she wondered if he knew.

“So I have heard a rumor or two,” Miran said as they paused by a window, overlooking the Forbidden Forest.  
“Oh, I don’t usually like rumors,” Siria said. She mirrored his quiet tone.  
“That’s why I came to the subject of the rumor, to clear it up,” he said. He knew. She nodded. “Some people are saying you are seeing Diggory and other people.”  
“I am,” Siria said.  
“Are you seeing Malfoy?” he asked. Maybe he didn’t know.  
“Draco is a dear friend,” Siria said. “We aren’t together the way I am with Cedric, though. It’s more a ‘you know where to find me’ kind of friendship these days, I suppose.” She certainly knew where to find him, even without the Marauder's Map. “You worried that because Draco is one of the best in my year…” Siria slowed as Miran blushed, “that... you’re... not... good... competition?” Why was he blushing? He was making her blush.

“Anyways, it’s getting late and you have the field tomorrow,” Siria said. Miran nodded. They parted ways. Siria took the first secret passage she went by, a door that pretended to be a wall unless you kicked it. She unfolded the Map and looked at the Gryffindor common room, where Hermione’s and Ron’s dots were too close. Siria scanned around, absently. Malfoy was wondering the corridors, a few floors below her. Madam Pomfrey moved around the Hospital Wing, where she had Dennis Creevey and… Siria looked closer, but it was Miran Shacklebolt.

“Siria!” Dennis gasped when she ran into the Hospital Wing. “I’m fine!” Siria cupped his face in her hands. “Madam Pomfrey already fixed it.”  
“Fixed what?” Siria asked. Dennis gulped.  
“Potter-Black, you’re just in time to take Creevey back,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Everything’s fine.”  
“Actually, Madam Pomfrey,” Siria said, Dennis’s hand in hers, “I heard Miran Shacklebolt was in, and wanted to see if I could wish him well.” She looked to Dennis, “my dorky brother was an unexpected bonus.”

Madam Pomfrey poked into the curtains around Miran’s bed and whispered. She pulled them back. Siria squeezed Dennis’s hand and told him to stay put. “Hey there,” Siria said to Miran. “What happened?”  
“Under the weather,” Miran said. Siria tilted her head a little. “Hexed in the corridor,” he confessed and glanced away. “I was headed over to Slughorn’s when it happened. Madam Pomfrey is a bit of worrywart and wants me in for the night.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Siria said. “You didn’t miss much, and people already know you.”  
“If not for the Chosen One thing, people might know me better than you,” he smirked. She stuck out her tongue while she reached for the curtains.

“You already got a visitor,” Siria noted the grey box with the silver-white ribbon.  
“I was rather hoping it was you,” Miran said.  
“SIRIA!” Dennis shouted. She jerked the curtain then glared over her shoulder. “It’s almost curfew for you too!”  
“Thank you, Dennis, I am aware,” Siria said through gritted teeth, “I am simply wishing my friend a speedy recovery— whereas you have already recovered.”  
“Shouldn’t you write your boyfriend a letter tonight?” Dennis asked.  
“Miran,” Siria pulled on a smile, “get well soon.” He chuckled.  
“Always a pleasure,” he said.

“Honestly, Dennis,” Siria said, while she took his hand and headed for Gryffindor Tower. “If I wanted to date Miran Shacklebolt then the only person allowed to stop me is him.”  
“But you could do even better than him,” Dennis said while Siria picked up the snake in the hidden passage they took.  
“What is that supposed to mean?”  
“Someone that wouldn’t get hexed or is top of their class— somebody like Hermione or Neville,” he said. Siria peered down the corridor and didn’t see Filch or Mrs. Norris.

“I can see non-Gryffindors, please note Lily Moon and Cedric,” Siria said while they hurried down and to the Fat Lady’s portrait.  
“You can,” Dennis said while Siria gave the password, “but maybe you should date someone braver than you have, someone that can support you better.”  
“I’d think someone ambitious could support me fine,” she said while she helped him through the portrait hole.  
“But they’d put their ambitions before yours,” Dennis tried to argue. Siria sighed, as she let go.  
“Dennis, what is this really about?” Siria asked. He hugged her.  
“Colin asked Astoria out!” Dennis said. She nodded and sat down with him, so he could tell her about it.

“So, I’m happy for them, of course I’m happy,” Dennis said. “He’s my brother and she’s my friend, so I’m happy.” Siria cuddled Dennis, who squeezed into the same seat cushion as her.  
“And?” Siria asked.  
“I’m just, I don’t know… won’t it be weird when we hang out now?” Dennis asked. “I’m just a third wheel.” This was almost too relatable for Siria. “Who am I going to hangout with if I can’t hang out with them?”  
“Colin and Astoria aren’t going to just drop you,” Siria said. “They both love you, and, if you feel lonely, I’m here too.” Dennis pulled his feet up onto the sofa and leaned on Siria. She patted his head. “It’s okay to be happy for them and it’s fine to feel lonely too.” He put his head down on her lap and curled up.

“If you really want to date that seventh year, you should,” Dennis muttered. “I just…” he curled up a little smaller. “I just don’t want to lose you too. You’re already so busy...I feel like I don’t get to see you anymore.”  
“Then, why don’t you pick a day, and I’ll always have lunch with you that day?” Siria proposed. Dennis nodded.

CRACK!

Siria didn’t remember falling asleep. She blinked in the darkness. On the table stood a little, blue-grey house elf with a long, thin nose and tennis ball like green eyes. “Siria Potter-Black,” Dobby squeaked and extended a letter.  
“Dobby?” Siria yawned, as she accepted the letter. She squinted at the envelope, but it was blank. “Thank you.” Dobby let her know how he and the staff were. He then urged her to go to bed. Siria carried Dennis to his dorm, before she retired to hers. The already forgotten letter crinkled, as she flopped onto her bed.


	10. The First Gamble

**The First Gamble**   


Like the snake said, the room was full of junk. Mountains of broken chairs, twitching old broomsticks, fanged frisbees, and what honestly looked like trash piles. She kept her nose down and her focus on the snake. It led her to a cabinet that she could have found by following the smell of Draco’s cologne. The large, broken vanishing cabinet had rosy undertones and smelt like cedar, even though it wasn’t.

Siria rose to her feet, as she turned back into a girl. She placed a hand on the cabinet and placed how she knew it. This was the vanishing cabinet Nearly Headless Nick asked Peeves to break in Siria’s second year. Someone got shoved in last year, and it sounded like they didn’t fair well.

“Where do vanished things go?” Siria wondered. If the cabinet got fixed, then would whatever was inside really disappear or would it go elsewhere. It felt like waking up. Somehow, Draco knew where things went. He was fixing the cabinet to send something somewhere. Unless it worked both ways. If it worked both ways, he wanted to bring something here— or someone.

All she had was time. Siria dropped her bag down then reverted into a dog; it was more comfortable on the floor as a dog than a person. She rested her head and watched the spot. Her mind was so awake, even though she wanted to sleep. Even as a dog, her head was full of things.

Complications. Will be solved.  
-P.

Siria shook her head. This is why she was here so early. How many times did she read the letter Dobby gave her? She couldn’t take it anymore. Why would Patricia send that? Of all the things, just blind confidence they would figure things out— things. It was “complications” not “a complication”, but that the world was crumbling around them and they were going to die. She took a breath.

Dying was one thing. That was always on the table. At least, her own death was always on the table. This was supposed to take it off. Their plan was supposed to take everyone’s death off the table. There were already more complications than they thought there could be: the seals had complications, Voldemort had complications, the Horcruxes had complications, relationships had complications, and now the nexus of their plan had complications.

Another breath. All she could do was breathe and wait and hope. Her eyes squeezed shut, as if she could shut out the negative thoughts. As if having her eyes closed would take all the frustration in her heart and seal it off. As if it would make this gamble more likely to succeed...

Draco took his sweet time enjoying his morning before he entered the Room of Requirement. She rose up. Siria hid behind a pile of miscellaneous clothes, which she would rescue from the Room when she could. Draco rushed to the cabinet like he was about to be late to class.

He looked over his shoulders then moved the chair beside the cabinet, and sat. Draco flipped through a book. Even for him, he was pale. They hadn’t been in school long, so she supposed the gaunt features could have been from summer. She remembered him healthier on the first night, though. The bags under his eyes had grown. Myrtle did say he wasn’t sleeping. Draco bit down on his nail, while he turned the pages.

A breath for confidence, for conviction. She stretched then pounced. Draco gasped as he hit the floor. Her fangs were on his throat until they weren’t. Siria pinned him to the ground.

“Just listen! Please! I will let you go, no matter what,” Siria promised. His wrists were so thin that her fingers touched. She looked into his cold silver eyes; they were so bloodshot that the red overpowered the flecks of blue. An extra fleck of silver caught her eye, on the floor, the coin pendant. Then the darkness beside it.

“You took the Dark Mark…” Siria didn’t even know if it was a question or a statement and it came from her. Draco shook. He tried to knock her off. Siria put more of her weight against him. They were both good Seeker builds, but he was lighter now.

“What if I offered you a solution where no one dies?” Siria asked. “Draco— please! Hear me out. I don’t care if you took the Mark, I’m sure you have your reasons, but I want your help.”  
“The hell you do!” He said and spat on her. Siria gritted her teeth. She wanted to slam her head into his with all her might, but didn’t. “You have no idea what he’s like!”  
“Oh!” Siria gasped with anger. “I don’t know what Voldemort— has been hunting me since I was a baby— Voldemort is like? Pray do tell, Draco— what is a genocidal, power-hungry, never grew up, loveless man like? What don’t I know? Is he going to kill your friends because they aren’t ‘Pureblood’ or going to murder your family—” Draco shuddered. Siria lost her words.

“Let’s help each other, please,” Siria said, back in control of her anger. “You said you’re not the person I built you up to be, so why don’t you let me get to know the person you are? Show me who they are and let me decide if I want to be their friend before you write me off— unless you don’t want to be mine.”  
“I don’t,” Draco grumbled through clenched teeth.  
“So you’re just wearing Miran Shacklebolt ‘cause he’s hot?” Siria asked. It was nice to see some color on Draco’s face.

“Anything in the world— if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?” Siria asked. Draco turned his head, flat against the floor. She waited. “I want my loved ones to live happily… you are one of those loved ones. You’re my friend. If you can look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want me to be your friend, then I’ll leave. I will not tell anyone about the Dark Mark. I will just continue to dedicate myself to stopping Voldemort, and taking down everyone that follows him.”  
“You’ll lose,” Draco’s lips barely moved as he whispered. “You haven’t seen what… you don’t know what he’s done.”  
“Okay.” Siria said. She let go and rose up.

Without looking at Draco, she swept her bag off the floor. She faced the doors to leave. “Malfoy… I am so sorry we couldn’t agree. I’m sorry that I kept bothering you when you said to stay out of your way. I wanted to be there for my friend, but you didn’t want to be friends…” Siria squeezed her eyes shut. “I want to say that I won’t do it anymore. I will, just in a worse way. If we can’t be friends, and you’re really standing with Voldemort, then I have to be in your way. I can’t let anything go in his favor.” She tightened her grip on her bag. “There’s too much at stake. I’m sorry.”

She walked toward the door. “Please,” she thought, “don’t do it.” To jinx or hex her would only add insult to injury. Was he going to tackle her for revenge? Siria took a breath and braced herself. His arms wrapped around her and she waited for impact...it came differently than she expected.

“Please, Siria,” Draco said. He buried his face in her back. His grip was so tight and desperate that it almost hurt. “You found me… please, don’t leave me.” It hit her. For a moment, she had no words. He was so scared and… “vulnerable?” she supposed that was the word, but it made her heartache.

“It’s okay,” Siria said and patted his arms. “You’re okay, Draco. I’m here with you, and I’m staying, for as long as you want.” Something told her that was what to say; it didn’t tell her that he would cry.

“Where have you been?” Hermione gasped. She clutched Siria’s arm then snapped her hand away when Siria winced. “What happened?”  
“Nothing,” Siria lied. She glanced at the watching eyes in the common room. “Is Ron here?” Hermione’s eyes fluttered. She looked to the ground and shook her head.  
“He was looking for you… we wanted to talk,” Hermione said. Siria nodded. She turned to leave again. Hermione followed after her. “You see, Ron and I… well, we’ll talk together,” Hermione said as they walked along.

From opposite sides of the seventh floor corridor, Hermione and Siria entered shortly after Ron did. Ron raised his arm to wave, but dropped his hand as quickly as it went up. He gave Siria a single nod. They met before the unsummoned Room of Requirement.

“Must be pretty big news for you to both want to talk to me,” Siria said. She felt she already knew. “Did someone die?”  
“No!” Hermione said. “Um,” she looked down the corridor. “Let’s talk in the Room. We can be comfortable there.” Hermione definitely had comfort in mind with the room. It was a miniature version of the Gryffindor common room, with good chairs that didn’t look like they had seen generations of students. They settled down around a small round table, in three different armchairs.

“So,” Siria said as she leaned back into her chair. She looked at Hermione then Ron.  
“So,” Ron said. He gripped one of his armrests.  
“So,” Hermione repeated. “This is comfortable…” she pulled on a smile and looked at Ron.  
“Yeah,” Siria said. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”  
“Where you this morning?” Ron asked. He shifted. “I mean… Hermione is… we’re… you know.”  
“I’m dating Ron,” Hermione said. She put her hands in her lap and sat up in her chair.  
“Congratulations,” Siria said. “But what was it you wanted to talk about?” Hermione and Ron blushed.  
“Well… I just thought, you might, you know,” Hermione muttered at her lap.  
“I might what?” Siria played. She ran her fingers through her hair.  
“I don’t want you sharing a bed with Hermione anymore,” Ron said.  
“Okay,” Siria agreed. “That’s fair and understandable.”  
“I want to… have a date with Hermione on Friday nights,” Ron added. Siria nodded.  
“Hermione?” Siria asked.  
“It would be nice…” Hermione said. “Even if we just have a study date. If we could also maybe spend part of the time at Hogsmeade alone.”  
“Sounds good,” Siria said. She put her hands on the arms of the chair and pulled herself to her feet.

“Are we going to class?” Siria asked. She stretched out her arms. Siria rose to her toes to stretch her legs while she stood. Her body ached with stiffness.  
“Don’t you…” Ron looked to Hermione. “Don’t you have anything else you want to say?” he asked Siria.  
“Are you happy?” Siria asked. Ron and Hermione shared a glance and a blush.  
“Yes…” Hermione blushed more.  
“We are,” Ron said, redder than his hair.  
“Then I’m happy for you,” Siria said. “You’re my best mates, and I want you both to be happy.”

Potions was even more sucking up and flattery. Siria was exhausted. She wanted it all to be over. They were so close now. Soon she could go back to being herself. Today showed her that. Somewhere under the fake smiles and heavy handed compliments she didn’t believe, she was there.

“Professor,” Siria stayed back after class. She looked down as she squeezed the strap of her bag. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” Siria said with her eyes down. Slughorn placed a hand over his stomach.  
“What’s wrong my dear?” Slughorn asked.  
“It’s…” Siria looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was in the room. She stepped closer to his desk and dropped her voice. “If you can, I don’t think you should invite me anymore.”  
“My dear, why?” Slughorn asked, clearly surprised.  
“It’s the Headmaster,” she whispered. Slughorn took a step back and Siria had to look down as she fought the urge to smirk. “He wants me to get close to you. I don’t know why, but it certainly can’t be good for you.” She raised her head to meet his eye. “You’ve been so good to me. I should’ve know he had something planned when he brought me to meet you. I was so silly,” she shook her head. “I hoped it was so I’d have someone that knew my mother in my life, but…” Siria blinked back the tears. “But I should’ve known better.”

Slughorn put an arm around her shoulder. “My dear girl,” Slughorn said, “this isn’t your fault. I won’t kick you out of the Slug Club because of Albus. It must have been hard for you to carry that.” He pulled on a brave smile. “You’re more like your mother than you think, and I would be a fool to spend less time with you because of things out of your control. My office will always be open.”  
“Thank you,” Siria sniffled. She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

It hurt to know how fake she could get. Now she could even make herself cry. Siria pulled on a smile as she sat down for lunch with Dennis. She wanted to vomit. She was no different than Dumbledore. He was Plan B though, and they needed a back up plan. Miran Shacklebolt sent her a smile that made her blush. She wanted to tell him to give them to someone who deserved them or had the time for them. Dennis tugged on her sleeve. “Siria, are you going to ask him out?” Dennis asked. She pinched his cheeks.  
“And lose more time with you?” She smiled wider. “C’mon, you haven’t touched your greens.”

“Sorry,” Neville said behind Dennis and Siria, as they were wrapping up. They scooted closer so he could sit beside Siria. “Um, I think Theodosia is sick,” Neville said. “She’s lost a lot of quills.”  
“Your glowbally thing?” Siria asked while Neville pulled opened his little pouch. He dug out some light from his pocket and showed it to Siria. Siria took out her own pouch. She held it beside Neville’s. The little balls shifted around, then Siria’s jumped into Neville’s pouch.

“Maybe yours is lonely?” Siria asked. “What do you mean it’s lost quills?” she eyed them. Neville pointed to the little light in his hand.  
“Can you see yours?” Neville asked. “It’s not really just light. They’re really cute. Theodosia has these tiny, little black eyes and the cutest nose. I didn’t see it until a few weeks ago, but I don’t know what do.”  
“Neville, can you draw what Theodosia looks like?” Siria asked. “I might be able to get some help, if I can figure out what they are.” Hermione had enough contacts that someone would be able to identify it.  
“Can I hold it?” Dennis asked. Siria reached to grab hers.  
“,,,Neville, which is which?” Siria asked.  
“Oh,” Neville took Siria’s out and handed it to her. She passed it to Dennis. “It’s weird because I can’t see yours as clearly as I see Theodosia. What did you name yours?”  
“I haven’t.”  
“Oh.”  
“It’s warm,” Dennis said with a small laugh. “It’s funny, I’m not so nervous about my test.” He handed Siria back the glowball. “Thanks for having lunch with me, P.B.”  
“Every Monday, I promised.”

Halloween brought the first Hogsmeade trip. Hermione and Ron went around, as they wanted to. Siria arranged to meet Cedric. They walked through the village, arm in arm, while he caught her up with what he had been up to. It was nice. That was the only word Siria could think of for it. To just be, no fake smiles or school work, just a day away from it.

“What about you?” Cedric asked. “I know there’s no way you’re just sitting in the castle, buried under schoolwork.” Siria placed her hand on her chest in mock-injury.  
“I happen to be very dedicated, Mr. Diggory,” Siria smiled. “My studies are my passion, my life.”  
“And what are you studying, Ms. Potter-Black?” Cedric mirrored her smile. He had such a good smile. If a smile could win the war, it would be his.  
“Nothing that I’ve made enough progress in to report to you,” Siria said. He raised an eyebrow that assured her otherwise. “The Dementor Killer is still no further. The Tale of Two Brothers is closer than ever, but I won’t know for sure until I try it, and it’s too risky to just try until I’ve taken care of Voldemort. Nagini will be the real test. Despite my studies in persuasion, I can’t use them on the Minister if he won’t approach me—”

“What?” Cedric asked. He paused, as did Siria. “The Minister has written you, several times since summer.”  
“What?” Siria asked. “I haven’t gotten anything from him since the meeting.” Cedric wouldn’t lie to her though. He was honest.  
“Father asked if I knew anything… I…” a light blush crossed Cedric’s nose. “I told my father that if the Minister was being ignored, he must have done something to earn it.”  
“Dumbledore,” Siria cursed. She clenched her fists. “It is one thing to want to know my plan, but it is another entirely to thwart mine.”  
“You still don’t trust him?” Cedric asked. “It’s fine. I suppose I just don’t understand.”  
“Dumbledore kept a close eye on Young Voldemort, but never tried to interfere or help him,” Siria said. “If you’re in a position of power and you don’t exercise it to help people and try to prevent Dark Wizards, why do you even have that power? So you can wait decades for some poor little orphan girl to die at his feet and have someone else murder him?” She shook her free hand. “Dumbledore may have a point with not announcing his plans, but there’s a reason he’s plan b— and why it won’t matter. Today will show that.”  
“Today?” Cedric asked. Siria let out a sorry sigh.  
“I can’t tell you. I’m so sorry, Cedric,” she added. “Until this goes well, I can’t risk someone overhearing.”

Cedric glanced around, a playful glitter of light in his eyes. He slid his arm from Siria’s grasp to put it around her shoulder. Cedric kissed her on the head. “I suppose your fan club is still within sight,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

They continued their walk and Siria continued to tell him about the little progress she made in her other projects. Sometimes it was just good to get them out, to force things into words and hear them. At one point, she pulled out the glowball. Cedric laughed. “Well, he clearly likes you more because that looks nothing like a Blast-Ended Skrewt,” he told her. “I do see what you mean about the emotional effects. While there wasn’t something directly bothering me, I do feel better and in a different way than seeing my girlfriend.” Cedric held it. “Still no idea?” Siria shook her head. “Longbottom can see his, but he’s the only one so far?”  
“The only one I know of,” Siria said.  
“Maybe he’s doing something the rest of you all aren’t,” Cedric said. “They’re clearly like Thestrals, in that there’s got to be a requirement to see them. You see death to see Thestrals, maybe you need to see something only Neville has to see these.” Siria planted a kiss on the tip of his nose.  
“How did I get someone so smart to date me?” Siria grinned.  
“Something about you being kinder than you give yourself credit for and more determined to do good than anyone else I know,” he said. “You’re cute too, and that certainly helps.” Siria blushed and wrinkled her nose. Cedric let out a laugh. “That only makes you cuter.” She put her hand over her face.  
“Oh, shut it,” Siria muttered.

They walked back toward the path to Hogwarts and waited. Cedric insisted Siria not go back alone, though she doubted very much that Voldemort would attack her here. “My dear girl,” Slughorn called and waved as he approached them.  
“Professor,” Siria pulled on a smile without an effort, and it hurt. “It’s always so good to see you.” Cedric placed a hand on the small of her back. He knew this wasn’t who Siria was.  
“Cedric Diggory,” Cedric introduced himself and shook Slughorn’s hand. “Thank you for encouraging Siria to submit the Solution. She’s brilliant and I’m glad there’s someone to talk her humility down.”  
“Cedric,” Siria whispered through her teeth, mouth frozen in a smile.  
“It is my pleasure, she is quite the gem,” Slughorn beamed at Siria. “Are you heading back to the castle, my dear? I would love to accompany you.”  
“Thank you,” Siria said. She kissed Cedric on the cheek. “Talk soon.” He wrapped her in a hug to whisper into her ear.  
“It is fine to feel that you have to be this person. You are more than enough as you are, though” he said. Her heart sank through the ground, as he let go.


	11. The Late Night Trip

**The Late Night Trip**   


White chalk lines dusted the sealed slide to the Chamber of Secrets. That was the problem with some spells. They were easy to do, but couldn’t be easy to undo. Especially protection spells. It would be too easy if a spell to seal was as easy to open as it was to set. Still, Siria sighed to herself while she picked up more chalk dust with her makeup brush, she was the one to cast it and the spell should have known her.

The door to Myrtle’s bathroom cracked open. Siria glanced around the sinks. She paused, eyes wide, for a moment while she took in two faces she wasn’t expecting. Habitually, a smile took root on her face.

“I know you girls can read,” Siria teased, “the sign says ‘Out of Order’.” Vijaya Ayers laughed while she walked further into the bathroom.  
“You’re not one to talk,” Vijaya said. Her smile was genuine. “Can you guess what rumors we heard about you this week? You get talked about in our common room a lot.” She hoisted herself up, to sit on one of the sinks and swing her legs. Matthews waved to Siria then looked at the floor. “Soft spoken” felt like an understatement.

“What have you heard now?” Siria asked while she washed the makeup brush.  
“I heard when you were my age, you broke into a forbidden corridor to fight V…” she paused. Her legs stopped swinging. Vijaya rose her head and looked Siria in the eye. “To fight Voldemort, and stop him coming back.” The pulled on smile tugged with a small bit of a real smile.  
“Nothing so bold,” Siria said while Vijaya resumed swinging her legs. “Hermione, Ron, and I believed someone was going to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone, so we set out to steal it first. Voldemort just happened to be the one trying to steal it.” She set the brush to dry. Siria picked up a container of blue chalk dust and another brush.  
“Nothing so bold!” Vijaya repeated with a giggle. “Merlin, P.B., c’mon! That’s so cool. It’s like you really are the Chosen One.”  
“What would you do if I was?” Siria asked. Vijaya stretched with her proud smile.  
“I’d do what Susan Bones did and I’d tell you I want to help— but I don’t want to be in the way too,” Vijaya said. “Especially if you’re taking down Bellatrix LeStrange.”  
“The plan is to take Voldemort down in such a way that others don’t want to follow him or his path,” Siria said, as she made dusty lines of blue chalk.  
“Well, I’m here for it! I’d do anything to get back at them,” Vijaya said. She looked to Matthews, who nodded silently. 

“P.B., what are you doing?” Vijaya asked. She leapt from her seat on the sink to walk around for a closer look. “What kind of magic is that?”  
“The best kind,” Siria smiled. “Well, all magic is of the same kind, I suppose.” She rinsed the brush and put it to the side to dry. “Last year I had to seal off the Chamber of Secrets, to stop Umbridge and the Ministry. We closed it up and hid everything, to be sure.” Siria placed her palm in the middle of the pentagram, encased in a series of circles. “Open!” Siria hissed in Parseltongue. The seal flashed as though made of light. It rolled through the closed entrance, like the ghost of a ball, and went down the slide. The Chamber of Secrets opened. 

“That went smoother, but I did get some practice on the last one,” Siria said. She cleaned up her things and started to collect them.  
“You’re not going down?” Vijaya asked.  
“Of course not,” Siria said. “Some things are better to have and not need, the Chamber is one of those things. I might need it later and I need it ready for if that time comes.”  
“What would you need it for?” Vijaya asked. She eyed the slide entrance.  
“It is the Chamber of Secrets,” Siria said. She finished putting her things into her bag.  
“Did you— did you really, um, kill a basilisk?” Matthews asked. Siria slung her bag onto her shoulder.  
“I did, and I don’t recommend it. If not for Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes, I’d be dead,” Siria said. “So don’t go playing around in the Chamber. Besides, it’ll close up and trap you inside.” Matthews nodded.

“Are you going to kill Voldemort in the Chamber?” Vijaya asked. “How will you get him to come?”  
“Voldemort thinks he’s immortal and All Powerful, but I know he isn’t,” Siria said. “Have you finished your homework?”  
“Oh, Come on!” Vijaya groaned. She and Matthews followed Siria out.  
“Do you want to sit out the D.A. meeting to do your homework?” Siria asked. “You know Hermione won’t let you participate if you’re not done.”  
“Help us then,” Vijaya said. “You’re good at Transfiguration and Potions, and that’s all we have left!”  
“Please,” Matthews added in a low tone. Siria clicked her tongue quietly, but yielded. 

Professor McGonagall woke Siria in the middle of the night. Her wand tip lit, like a dying candle. The way her eyebrows knitted together sent Siria’s stomach plumitting. Someone had died, or worse. Siria pulled a pair of jeans on under her nightgown, grabbed her jacket and glasses, and followed Professor McGonagall out.

“Potter-Black,” Professor McGonagall said, “I hope you understand this is not the common practice and certain… privileges are being afforded to you.” Her wide, brisk steps had Siria almost at a jog to keep up. “Discretion is encouraged,” Professor McGonagall said before the hissed the password at Dumbledore’s gargoyle.

Words knotted in Siria as her stomach twisted more with each turn of the rising staircase. Her mind wanted to ask “Is it…” but she couldn’t put in a name. To put a name in, to ask who it could be would make her face the whole reason they were trying this plan. “What if…” she squeezed her eyes shut. She would not cry. She could not. This could be nothing… except Professor McGonagall would never wake anyone for nothing.

“Hogwarts wasn’t run like this in my day, “ Phineas Nigellus said as the door opened. Dumbledore turned from the portraits. No one was pretending to sleep tonight. Siria’s eyes went to the rusted shovel on Dumbledore’s desk and she knew.  
“Where am I going?” Siria asked. That was the most important question. The others could be answered there.  
“St. Mungo’s,” Dumbledore said. Siria nodded. That meant they were still alive… whoever it was. She took a breath and reached for the shovel. “Before you go, Ms. Potter-Black, is there anything you’d like to disclose?”

For a moment, Siria’s mind flooded. “That Draco’s been tasked to kill you?” “That you’re going to die, and I think it’s worth it.” “I’d rather side with the Minister of Magic than you.” “Whatever your plan is, it’s not needed.” “I hate how you try to horde information and secrets, and rely on people to just trust you.” “Only someone terrible would let a bully like Snape teach for this long.” There were too many things and no time to address any of them properly.

“Is there anything you’d like to share?” Siria asked aloud. Her expression was as flat as she could manage, despite the rising panic inside her.  
“Not at this time,” he said. Siria hated the light that glittered in his eyes, as if he and Voldemort were the All Knowing, All Powerful Gods of the magical world. If it was one thing she had learned, it was that no one was either. She took the handle of the shovel.

A whirlwind of color engulfed Siria. She stumbled to the floor, falling to a knee, a moment later. Glimpses of the white walls of St. Mungo’s flickered into sight. People were being ushered all around her. A hand extended to Siria from the crowd.

“Storm?” Siria asked, while she accepted the hand and got to her feet.  
“Normally I’d take this opportunity to point out how overly privileged you are and that you ought to do something with it,” Storm said while she half-dragged and half-jogged with Siria’s hand in hers. Just as she always did, Storm parted the crowd of people, many of them certified Healers. “The Minister is using this as a chance to catch you off guard, so don’t be. Be the person who rises to every challenge, like you’ve always done.”  
“Storm, please, what’s going on?” Siria asked.  
“Bellatrix LeStrange led a company of Death Eaters and… we’re a mess with Muggles needing care, which is the only reason I even got to you. Diggory—”  
“CEDRIC?” Siria gasped.  
“His father!” Storm shouted to Siria and relief washed over her. It wasn’t Cedric. Cedric was fine… Amos was older. He didn’t like Siria anyway. She raised her head up and squeezed Storm’s hand. Siria knew she felt she should be guilty or sorry or otherwise sad, but she was too relieved it wasn’t Cedric.

Mrs. Diggory was pale and seated beside the door. Her kind brown eyes, which normally seemed lit with life, were glazed in tears. She stared at the wall before her, not really seeing it or her pacing son. Cedric paced before the door. His gaze down, at his feet. He never went more than two steps from the door. His brow was even more knit together than Professor McGonagall.

“Diggory,” Storm snapped at him. He jerked, like a puppet on strings, and looked to her. Storm gestured to Siria with her head. She let go of Siria’s hand, as Siria rushed to hug Cedric. He squeezed her so tightly, the air was trapped in her lungs.  
“Siria,” he breathed and buried his face in her hair. She grabbed onto the back of his shirt and held him as close as she could.

Time scraped along so slowly it felt like days. The bit of sky Siria could see through the windows was still dark, so she knew it could only have been hours. It was too early and later than she expected when the Minister came by. Rufus Scrimgeour had grown into the position Minister of Magic; something about the way he still looked like a lion showed he handled the position better than Fudge did.

He exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Diggory and Cedric before he glanced to Siria. His face was in a firm expression of having decided to not be friendly. She could appreciate it, if a smile hadn’t pulled onto her face from habit. It hurt. She was tired, and not just from wanting to sleep.

“Ms. Potter-Black, a word, if you would,” Scrimgeour asked. Siria squeezed Cedric’s arm. He nodded.  
“Of course, Minister,” Siria said. She followed him down the corridor. Siria looked over her shoulder, for another glance to Cedric. He had his hand on his mother’s shoulder. Mrs. Diggory held his hand and had the other clasped over her mouth. The image of Mrs. Diggory stifling a shudder burned into Siria’s mind, as she turned out of sight from them.

Someone had tidied their office for the Minister of Magic. Siria felt she looked more childish than in their actual meeting. Her nightgown was at least mostly plain, a deep violet with black lace trim. With her jeans and jacket, she couldn’t decide if it made her look more or less professional.

“I was sorry to hear about Amos,” Rufus Scrimgeour said after a long moment of silence. Siria clasped her hands in her lap.  
“Minister, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to skip the formalities,” Siria said. “Any minute now, the Healer will be providing an update and I may have to support my—” she hesitated for a moment; the word felt more grown up and serious than she wanted, “—partner. What do you want to discuss?”  
“I trust you’ve seen the news about Umbridge?” he asked. She gave a single nod.

He nodded in return then opened his coat. Rufus Scrimgeour took out a letter, which he extended to Siria. She accepted it and looked over it with a look of “should I open it now?”  
“I have been trying to get that letter to you for some time, but it seems to never make it into the school,” he said.  
“Did you try addressing it to ‘Kreacher the House Elf’?” Siria asked as she pocketed it. “I didn’t think so. ‘Don’t judge a person by how they treat their peers, but by how they treat others’,” Siria told him. It was something Sirius wanted engrained in Siria. He wanted her to be kind to house elves, and others that the Magical Community deemed “less than” her; she just felt it was a larger list than he thought and that it meant she had to be extra nice to everyone. After all, who her age could say they had meetings with the Minister of Magic?

“As tomorrow’s Daily Prophet will no doubt report, somewhere between the lines of this Death Eater attack,” Rufus Scrimgeour said, “Hwi-bin has been welcomed back into the International Confederation of Wizards, as have many of her peers. Their first meeting will be on the winter solstice, for the final meeting of the year. Members have already received the agenda, which your letter contains a copy of.”

“Minister, if I may…” Siria sat forward in her chair. Rufus Scrimgeour’s mouth tightened into a line.  
“You will find you may,” he said in a tone that told her they both knew she would either way.  
“What is the Ministry doing to keep the world, as a whole, safe from these attacks?” Siria asked.  
“As I know you’re aware, from Ms. Granger’s writings, if nowhere else, we have issued several safety pamphlets and placed one of our most trusted Aurors at the Muggle Minister’s side,” he said.  
“But Voldemort hasn’t limited attacks to the Magical Community or Muggle authority figures,” Siria said. “If I’m not mistaken, which I very well could be, the ‘hurricane,’ over summer was of magical origin.”  
“Our Obliviators handled the Muggles,” he said.

Siria opened her mouth, but closed it. It was late. Her temper was short. She clenched her fists. “How overly privileged you are,” echoed in Siria’s mind.

“Minister, with all do respect,” Siria said through gritted teeth, “what more can we do to help the Muggles? I understand that modifying their memories helps us, and that many of the injured are seen by St. Mungo’s staff, but…”  
“Ms. Potter-Black, I am aware of your views on Muggle-Wizard relations, but that is not the place for school children,” Rufus Scrimgeour said. Siria bit back the urge to flip the desk on him. “Adults decide how the world gets to work.”  
“And why is that?” Siria asked, though she knew. “Because some adult somewhere decided what age we can vote and decided our voices don’t matter until then? You’re the British Minister of Magic— you decide when the voices of your people matter.”  
“And I’ve decided yours doesn’t,” he said.  
“Unless it’s speaking for you?”  
“What I want it to say.”  
“Fine.”

“One final thing, Ms. Potter-Black,” Rufus Scrimgeour began, “where does Dumbledore go when he leaves the school?”  
“He doesn't tell me,” Siria said. Hermione had mentioned Dumbledore’s absence at the Great Hall for meals, but Siria found it a relief.  
“And if he did, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?” Rufus Scrimgeour asked.  
“It would depend,” Siria said. “If I thought you could help and it was something worth helping, maybe,” she locked eyes with the Minister, “but it also might not be something you want my voice saying.”

Siria rose to her feet. “Minister,” Siria nodded, “I’ll review your letter. You can expect my reply in two to three business days,” she heard Chloe give anyone she didn’t like that the same timeline, or longer. “As the Headmaster does not approve of our partnership, please mail the letters to Kreacher the House Elf. They’ll find me.” They exchanged forced pleasantries and Siria took her leave.

Mr. Diggory would not suffer like the Longbottoms. He could talk and seemed to understand what the Healers told him. If one didn’t know, they would think nothing had changed. There were large gaps in his memory though. He was surprised to see Cedric “so old”. “The Girl Who Lived, sixteen already,” he muttered at Siria. Mrs. Diggory pushed Mr. Diggory through St. Mungo’s in a wheelchair.

“I just don’t understand,” Cedric told Storm. “If he’s been healed, why is he still… like this?”  
“I’m only a Junior Healer, Diggory, I’m not even an Apprentice yet, but,” Storm looked to Siria. Siria startled and pointed to herself. “The psychology book you gave me covered Muggle memory loss, and one of the possible causes is trauma,” Storm said. She sighed. “There aren’t any cases recorded in Magical history because well, we don’t put stock into Muggle things. We don’t have therapists, let alone cognitive behavioural or narrative therapy. We go as far as Cheering Charms and Draughts of Elation.” Storm looked at Cedric. Her chest rose with a breath, but she didn’t sigh. “I think your father needs a therapist. I can look into if there are any Magical Community related ones, so he can talk about specifics.”  
“Thank you,” Cedric said. He squeezed Siria’s shoulder. She knew he built himself to be what his father wanted and couldn’t imagine the feelings he was having. 

Storm glanced around, like she was worried they would be overheard. She took a half step closer to Cedric and Siria. Cedric pulled his arm around Siria and leaned closer to Storm. “Bellatrix LeStrange has been using Dark Magic to leave lasting injuries. She’s cursed about twenty people with things we haven’t found a way to fix,” Storm said. “P.B., whatever you’re planning, keep LeStrange in mind and act fast. My wand is yours.”

Draco Malfoy flashed in Siria’s mind. He would be the one that had to do it. No one else related to Bellatrix would agree. He might not agree. How thick was their blood?

“After…” Siria sighed. “After the International Confederation of Wizards meets on the Solstice, and once our mutual friends have returned, I’ll be able to put the plan in motion. I’m just missing one thing, beside them— Ravenclaw’s diadem.” She mouthed the last two words. No one could hear because anyone could carry it back to Voldemort.  
“Talk to my House’s oldest friend,” Storm said with purpose. “If she is stubborn, tell her it’s a favor to me, and don’t you dare mess this up.” Siria squeezed Storm’s hand. “I don’t buy this ‘Chosen One’ crap,” Storm added, “but I do believe you’ll step up to the pitch, destiny or not.”  
“Careful, Storm, I might start to think you like me,” Siria pulled on a smile.

Sirius collected Siria from St. Mungo’s with two members of the Order. She changed at Grimmauld Place and had a light, quick breakfast with them and Kreacher. It was difficult to not share the news of her plan; she trusted the Order of the Phoenix, but it was full of people more loyal to Dumbledore. They couldn’t share much, during their short trip on the Knight Bus where anyone could overhear. Sirius hugged her so tightly, she worried he thought she was falling apart.

“Dad, I’m okay,” Siria whispered. “You raised me so well.” She tightened her grip on his jacket. “If anyone can beat Voldemort and walk away, it’s going to be me and my friends.” Somehow, Sirius managed to squeeze her tighter.  
“It shouldn’t have to be,” he said. “We should have protected you better. If Dumbledore had any suspicions of Horcruxes, that’s what we should have been chasing after when you were younger.”  
“No,” Siria said. “It is what it is. We don’t have time for ‘what ifs’ anymore, Dad. I have a plan and a back up and Hermione has back ups to that, and Dumbledore is out there somewhere doing something.” She let herself laugh. “I didn’t come back from the dead to ask how things could have been or wish for them to be different. In all the ways things could have fell, I have this one and couldn’t be more thankful. We’ll take Voldemort down.”

The thought that lingered in her mind, which she couldn’t share, was haunting and comforting. Sirius wouldn’t find it that way. It was comforting to her, and probably to the part of Voldemort’s soul inside her. Voldemort would go down, no matter what she had to pay.

 

Author's Note: usual reasons (life is pretty crazy & my schedule is overflowing [as are the schedules of my betas]). I'll update as I can. Things are outlined, it's just a matter of making the time. To those of you that have to drop off or have, I completely understand. To those that stay, thank you; please know that I love Siria and will finish; it's just taking longer than it was.


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